#like do you know how THRILLED she was to be turned into a toad

[elizabethrobertajones]

To be honest my biggest "my WoL would not do that" in the whole game is when I, playing a WoL called Bounding Frog who named herself from her lifelong love of studying frogs, was called out for acting like a bad frog by Erenville, a man apparently her equal in Frog Knowledge. I have to believe that Alphi-toad and Ali-toad were so bad at being toads that even though Frog was doing her best to be realistic and guide them, it was hopeless and their poor acting was what betrayed them to the frog guy.

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 20

Ah yes, the satisfaction of seeing the build up of several chapters get paid off. *cackles in evil author*

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16  Part 17 Part 18  Part 19  

***

The next day’s performance went off without a hitch and Steve was really getting into the thrill of being on stage. He loved performing in front of the kids as they laughed at the antics of Jefferson, Adams, and Franklin. He went full bitch every time Thomson was interrupted and the kids ate it up.

He was still struggling with General Washington line but Miss Lucy didn’t comment on it anymore so he figured he had at least done enough to make her stop.

Wednesday was the last performance in front of the kiddos and then that night would be their first full show. The auditorium was darkened and the spotlight was on Steve and instead of staying in the spot he took a half step forward, casting him half in light and half in shadows as he spoke his lines.

Behind him he could hear the sound of rushing water crashing into the stage. Had he not taken those steps forward he would have been drenched, ruining the costume and wig completely. As it was the only thing that got wet was his hose.

It took everything in Steve’s power not to turn around. Not to stop the scene. The kid playing Adams hissing to keep going. They would sort it out after. Steve began to shake as he finished his part of the scene and walked out. Vince was careful of the water on stage and thankful that his shoes had heels to keep his feet mostly dry.

They paused between scenes for the stage crew to clean up the mess, with Janice backstage trying to calm Steve down. Miss Lucy was livid. She explained to the kids that a water main broke and that the show would continue after a ten minute interlude. Then she interrogated every stage crew person not cleaning up the mess. Because it could have only been someone from crew that could have set it up.

The show went on and they were able to finish their performance without further mishap. Steve finished with only the barest tremor to his voice. His hands still shook, but these were kids. They didn’t know what had happened. Not really. But they had a cute little story to tell their parents that night.

*

An hour before their first nightly show, Janice came running up to Steve. He was getting into costume, thankful his tights had dried out in time.

“You’re never going to believe this!” she cried, gripping his arm tight.

“What? What’s going on?” Steve asked.

“They found it who sabotaged the set today!” Janice said, shaking his arm.

Eddie and Marty who had been talking to some of the other stage crew came over, too.

“I am so livid,” Marty said. “I can’t believe that toad got Ollie and Mindy to do his bidding.”

Steve frowned. “Mindy? As in Mindy Jones?”

Marty nodded. “She’s one of our best lighting riggers. She’s small and agile enough to get in and get out quickly.”

“Dude, she fucking hates me,” Steve explained. “We were in Pottery class together and resented me coming into the class after the semester started when I was forced to quit basketball and baseball due to my concussions.”

Eddie swore. “And Ollie is that baseball kid that knocked into Steve a couple weeks back. Called him all sorts of slurs.”

Janice’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit. That’s how Kyle got to them. They already hated Steve. I thought he’d paid them. But he probably didn’t have to, they were more than willing to do it without payment.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Kyle? Kyle Carver? He’s behind the water trap?”

Janice nodded. “He got them to rig the trap to fall during the ‘Is Anybody There?’ sequence because it would just be Steve and Vince and Vince would be far enough away that he wouldn’t get hit.”

“Okay, but why?”

Eddie pursed his lips. “He had been secretly working with Mrs Thompson, Tammy’s mom to get his own costume and wig. Once yours were ruined and you likely sick from being doused with water, he would step in and take your place as Charles Thomson.”

Steve sat down hard. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Janice agreed. “Miss Lucy is pissed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this angry before. She’s calling for them to be expelled.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Shit.”

“They could have seriously hurt you,” Marty said. “This isn’t just some prank. If the bucket had fallen, you could have gotten another concussion.”

Steve nodded. “I knew he was pissed that I got the role over him, but I never thought he’d go this far.”

“Yeah,” Janice agreed. “According to Mrs Thompson she thought he just wanted a costume for some party his dad was throwing.”

“Or so she says,” Eddie said darkly.

Marty nodded. “Yeah, I think she’s only saying that because the cops were throwing around words like conspiracy and attempted assault.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit.”

“I think you’ve got a friend in the HPD,” Eddie said. “They wanted much stronger charges.”

Steve blushed. “Something like that.”

*

Steve looked out in the audience as he waited for the lights to go down and the curtain to go up. He smiled when he saw all his kids in the first two rows. Dustin, El, Lucas and Erica, Mike and Will in the first row. With Jonathan and Nancy and all their parents on the second.

He continued to look for his parents. He had told him about it and his mother ensured him that they would be here.

He didn’t see them. But he still had two more nights. It was fine. He went out there and killed it.

Dustin came running up to him afterwards, screaming and jumping up and down.

“Holy shit, dude!” he cried, the rest of them following at a regular pace. “Where did you learn to do that? You were incredible!”

Steve blushed but gave him huge hug. Soon he was being bombarding with compliments and hugs. Everyone telling him about how well he did and how good the show was.

“We’re all going out for ice cream!” Erica said. “You are coming with us, right...?”

Steve nodded. “Of course. Everyone deserves ice cream to celebrate how awesome I am.” He winked at her and she rolled her eyes.

“You’re coming with Dad and me,” El said excitedly. “We’ll drop you back off here to get your car after we’re done.”

Steve agreed. “Sounds great. I just need to say goodbye to my friends and I’ll be right back.”

They all nodded and chatted among themselves as they waited.

Steve went back to where his friends were waiting for him.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted. “They want to take me out for ice cream in celebration, so I’ll catch you guys tomorrow, okay?”

Janice and Marty nodded, but Eddie caught his shoulder. “You want me to wait for you by your car in case Kyle tries something else?”

Steve felt a cold chill in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t thought of that. So he nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that. I mean, Chief Hopper will be dropping me off, but they could still do something to my car while I’m gone.”

Eddie nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on it. I promise.”

Steve squeezed his hand and then waved goodbye to everyone.

*

“I didn’t know you knew the Munson boy,” Hopper said when Steve slid into the cab of his truck.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Do you want the legal answer or the illegal one?”

Hopper sputtered as El giggled.

“The legal one, please,” Hopper said after a moment. “I really don’t want to hear about the other one. For my sanity.”

Steve chuckled. “After Billy Hargrove bashed my head in with a plate, Eddie helped me get to the nurse’s station when I started throwing up in fifth period and we became friends after that.”

Hopper sighed. “Yeah, all right.”

“Plus,” Steve continued, “he’s protected me from Billy and his friends wanting to make an example of me to the school that Hargrove is the new top dog.”

“Well shiiiioooot,” he said, El looking up at him with her wide brown eyes.

Steve huffed out a laugh. “So, yeah. If it wasn’t for Eddie and his friends my senior year would have been hell. But as it is, they got me to try out for the play, they invited me over for Christmas so I wasn’t by myself. I’ve had movie nights with them. They’re good people.”

Hopper sighed again. “You’ve made your point.”

Steve smiled brightly. He briefly thought about telling them about Eddie and his relationship. But he wasn’t sure how they would react to that. Plus he liked keeping it private. Just something soft between them. Yes a handful of people already knew, but Steve knew they wouldn’t tell anyone without talking to Eddie or him first.

Steve had a blast at the ice cream parlor. He laughed and swapped stories with everyone. Just enjoying celebrating with some of his closest friends.

After Hopped dropped him back off at his car, Hopper walked him to it. “I just wanted to let you know that there probably won’t be a lot that happens to those kids legally. The ones that tried to prank you earlier today.”

Steve sighed. “I figured. Maybe if my dad was interested in more than chasing the latest skirt and actual cared about me, there might be something done, but right now Kyle Carver’s got the better lawyers.”

Hopper nodded. “Sad, but true. I’ll keep putting pressure on the mayor and other key politicians and see if we can’t get them at least expelled for their little stunt.”

Steve nodded. “Thanks. It’s something. Which is a hell of a lot better than nothing.”

Hopper gave Steve’s shoulder a squeeze and then walked back to his truck. Steve shook his head. He turned around to see Eddie eyeing him warily.

“Like, I know you said that Chief Hopper was dropping you off,” Eddie said, “but it’s one thing to hear it and another to see it.”

Steve shrugged. “You remember my comic?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied with a shrug.

“Let’s just say that Chief Hopper and his daughter are involved, too. So I got to know them both.”  

Eddie nodded skeptically, running his tongue over his teeth. “And that would be why you were able to use their story for your comic for art class?”

“Oh yeah,” Steve said. He got close to Eddie, so close they were practically sharing the same breath. “And he tried to warn me off you. I told him that I am who I am now...which in case you need me to spell it out for you, is happier and healthier than I have been in years, is because of you. Because of our friends. Because you make me happy.”

Eddie blinked and blushed, pursing his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yes, you absolute menace,” Steve teased. “I love you.”

“Did you–” Eddie asked, suddenly worried.

Steve shook his head. “Not without talking to you first, sunshine.”

Eddie relaxed. “Let’s get you home, darlin’.”

Steve looked around and then planted a large kiss on his lips.

Eddie melted into it, pulling Steve flush against his chest. “I love you, too.”

***

Part 21

Tag List: @shrimply-a-menace @strangersteddierthings @throwbackthrowaway @novelnovella @cursedfoxteeth @babyblender @garden-of-gay @anaibis @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steve-the-hairrington @winterbuckwild @spectrum-spectre @matchingbatbites   @thing-a-ling @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @artiststarme @sundead  @nelotegreitic @gregre369 @butterflysandpeppermint @thedragonsaunt @kodaik97 @messrs-weasley @scarletzgo @deadlydodos @renaissan-vvitch @evix-syne666 @emly03 @justforthedead89 @ashwinmeird @huniibee @phantypurple @stevesbipanic @shucks-yuckyuck @lovelyscot @awkwardgravity1 @bookbinderbitch @reportinglivefromsoda @jinxjinn @chasinggeese @be-the-spark-bitch @kohlraedirectioner @cr0w-culture @xjessicafaithx @whimsicalwitchm @jaywhohasthegay @estrellami-1 @dangdirtydemons @howincrediblysapphicofyou @the-redthread 

[queewp]

Small free write I wrote of my Raised Wild AU-

Kinda trying to get a feel for how to write them. When they’re chirping, or speaking non-english, it’ll be either italicized, bolded, or both lmao (the girl is April btw :>) Snippet of a writing I did:

The girl dusted herself off, standing up straighter. Donnie took a step back, bearing his teeth towards the human, as they opened to their mouth to say something. Suddenly, the girl’s gaze left them, going behind them, and into the dark. A loud, airy growl sounded from behind them, large footsteps following in their wake. Leo looked behind them, eyes narrowing at the sight of the alligator snapping turtle. 

Large was an understatement, he was huge. An imposing size compared to all 3 of them, fists clenched and tail stiff behind him. He sent a small glance at Leo and Donnie before his gaze settled on the human. 

The human girl stood frozen, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of her face as she shuffled back a few steps. 

It took only a few seconds before Raph was charging at her, his footsteps vibrating the very ground they stood on as he swung at the girl. A second too late and the girl would be painted on the crate behind her, but instead of hitting her, Raph caught the baseball bat. He let out a hisssss, snaggletooth for display as he crushed the wooden weapon in his hands. The girl yelped as she dodged yet another attack, only to get hit by his sweeping tail. The girl skidded across the docks, the slim rectangle falling out from her pocket. 

Raph went out to charge her again, the girl scrambling back up and dashing to the side. She hauled herself over a small crate, using her smaller size to get through the maze of crates. Raph huffed, before letting out a loud, chilling roar after her. Don’t come back. Even if the human couldn’t understand them, it would be foolish to come back after that.

The sounds of the city docks finally started to come back to them, toads croaking and water swirling behind them. Raph’s hands clenched into fists, snarling loudly out to open air. 

After things finally settled down, small chirpings were heard from above. It took Leo a few seconds to get up towards his little brother, bonking his head with Mikey’s. Their little brother yelped playfully, before jumping up and wrestling him. As the two played fight, Donnie took interest in the tech laying on the ground. He quickly picked it up, twirling it in his claws. The screen was cracked, and he didn’t know if it was due to the fight that just happened or if it was there previously.

It took him only a few seconds before he pressed the button, the screen lighting up. He let out a small thrill of excitement at the phone, staring at it. 

Donnie, Raph’s gruff voice sounded, staring down at him. What’s that? 

A phone, from the human. Raph eyed the phone, a sound of disdain gurgling from him. It’s fine, I know what I’m doing. 

That’s not what I’m worried about. Why did you guys interact with the human? You were supposed to be hunting for food, Raph sounded both angry and disappointed.

I wanted to make sure Leo wouldn’t get himself hurt. It took a second before Raph turned his attention to Leo. 

He chirped, sharp and loud, getting both Mikey's and Leo’s attention. Leo stared at Donnie for a second, letting out a small noise. 

Why did you confront the human, Leo? 

Why not? 

Why not? Raph mocked. What's wrong with you? What if they killed you?! Raph said defensively, jumping up onto the crate with Mikey and Leo, making it shake. Donnie quickly followed suit, standing behind Raph awkwardly. 

Pssh, as if.

 Raph looked like he was going to blow up, splinters digging into his hands. For a second, everyone stared wide eyes at him, unsure if they should back up. You’re not leaving my sight until this cools off, Raph finally said, his chirps struggling to hold back his anger. Got it? 

Leo faltered, sending a glare at Raph, So I get to be stuck in the lair all day?!  This is what happens Leo, when you don’t follow my rules, Raph grabbed Leo by the shell before placing him over his shoulder. The urge to laugh irked at Donnie, but kept quiet under Leo’s heated stare towards him. Mikey followed the group as they walked closer to the water, chirping an out-of-tune song he made up.

[unleashed-fest]

UNLEASHED! FEST: ANONYMOUS MASTERLIST

Fellow animal lovers, we're brining you the anonymous masterlist of all the furry/scaly/feathery creations our fest has to offer!

And what a list! We have a whole pride of peacocks 🦚, a basilisk, a couple of dogs 🐕, a school of fish 🐠, a hedgehog 🦔, a whole pile of cats and kittens 🐈, a few nifflers and a crow, cute foxes 🦊 and a toad 🐸, a whole den of snakes 🐍, two ferrets and a lovely demiguise, a mouse 🐭 and a werewolf 🐺, a whole heap of farm animals, a rogue seagull, highland cattle 🐮 and a herd of hippogriffs. Phew! 😅

Keep the kudos and comments coming for our fantastic creators, they very much deserve them. We will reveal their identity on Friday Oct 20th. Watch this space!

🐾

🐾 ART

Feathered and Fabulous (Draco/Harry, digital art, T) Draco runs a successful Instagram account for his pet peacock. Harry takes every opportunity to flirt.

how the hell... (Draco/Harry, digital art, G) Harry has no idea how a white highland cow got inside 12 Grimmauld Place, nor why it seems to have a strange affinity for the fancy French chocolates one of his admirers keeps sending him...

Quiet as a mouse (Ron/Viktor, digital art, G) Based on this prompt: Hogwarts Fourth Year: While Ron is grateful for Pigwidgeon, he sometimes finds himself wistfully remembering the times he spent with 'Scabbers' -- before the reveal in Third Year, anyway. One such night, he's startled and wary to find a rat scampering around, until Viktor appears, looking for his escaped pet. They eventually bond over pets, grief, comfort, Quidditch, and many other things as they start to develop feelings for each other.

🐾 PODFIC

Because Cats by ICMezzo (Draco/Harry, 1.5-2hours, T) Harry has a cat, and Draco doesn’t. Then Draco has a cat, and Harry doesn’t. Then Harry has a cat again, but Draco doesn’t. Then Draco has a cat, but Harry—OMG HOW WILL IT END.

🐾 FIC & ART

Trevor the Escape Artist (Neville/Pansy, 2.9, G) Trevor the Master of Escape feels his reputation being ruined because a certain someone keeps successfully locating him and bringing him back to his owner. Trevor is often found in bathrooms because he likes humidity.

With Love in Her Luminous Eyes (Draco/Harry, 30k, T) The Demiguise lived in Grimmauld Place, and she lived all alone.

🐾 FIC

Birds Behaving Badly (Draco/Harry, 10.5k, E) For eight years, Draco has been content living a quiet life of anonymity in Brighton, dodging pesky seagulls and enjoying the ephemeral boys of summer. And if these summer blokes just happen to resemble Harry Potter, it’s a mere coincidence—despite what his friends say. But when a repeat one-night stand challenges him to face his desires, Draco thinks he’s finally over his years-long crush. A seagull named Kevin thinks otherwise.

Charlie (Draco/Harry, 1.7k, T) Harry's trying not to be jealous that Charlie's moved in with Draco.

Harry Potter And The Dubious Rescue Of His Ferrety Boyfriend (Draco/Harry, 8.8, T) Draco Malfoy always ends up getting bullied by other animals while in his Animagus form. Harry must rescue him again. Or must he?

It's Me or the Peacock (Draco/Harry, 4.5, T) They’ve been together for two years when Draco finally moves into Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Only, Harry didn’t know he’d be bringing a pet with him.

misty morning comes again (Draco/Ron, 4.5k, M) Every morning without snow on the ground or rain that turned the land into a slip and slide of mud and wet grass, Ron ran the property with his misfit herd of barnyard animals close behind him. The thrilling tease of watching Ron's solid, sweat-glistening body do its lap around the misty morning pond was just about the only thing that could get Draco willingly out of bed so soon after the summer sun rose. Barn chores and animal butts certainly weren't going to do it.

No capacity for feelings (Draco/Harry, 2.9k, T) Draco's Basilisk might or might not be depressed. Whatever the case, he would never ask Harry Potter for help.

Of Magical Beings Being - Magical (Draco/Harry, 30k, E)Out of the blue, Potter's letter says: I need your help. And Draco, ever a fool, goes. Cue magical houses, fluffy Beings with a sweet tooth, mutual pining level: infinity, and truly outrageous amounts of tea.

Peacocks of the Bride(groom) (Draco/Harry, 7k, T) The Big Day is here! Draco and Harry are finally getting hitched. Will the wedding be a smashing success or will peacock-induced chaos ensue? (It’s the latter, for sure)

Slithering up the garden path (Draco/Harry, 1.4k, G) Draco just wants to read in the garden. He's not sure why there are so many snakes around.

Sun Shower (Draco/Harry, 5.9k, T) Each afternoon, Harry and his cat lounge in their sitting room, make an elaborate snack, and then head out for a walk. When they run into a certain tall, pale-haired man and his scruffy dog, they find their routine shifting.

the strays (Draco/Harry, 13.8k, T) Draco befriends stray animals in his back garden, unknowing that one of them is actually an animagus.

Two cute foxes, one embarrassing rant (Harry/Fred/George, 1k, G) Fred and George needed a role of their own, even considering how they were Fred & George and not Fred and George. And, if no one had made the effort to recognize them, to distinguish them, they would have managed to be seen and noticed. At least that was his due to them. This didn't mean they wouldn't want to be appreciated for who they were.

Waiting for the Moon to Rise (Draco/Harry, 8.9, E) When Harry and Draco move into Grimmauld Place straight out of Hogwarts, the last person they expect to find taking up residence is Bill ‘divorced, dishevelled, and dangerous’ Weasley. But what if their new, furry little problem is the help they need to finally bring them closer? Stranger things have happened, Draco supposes.

Wings and Slings (Draco/Harry, 24k, T) After the war, Draco Malfoy decides to turn over a new leaf and in doing so, opens an animal sanctuary for sick and homeless magical creatures. Everything is going well, until he is given a feral herd of hippogriffs and has to ask for outside help to be able to get anywhere near them. Only, it's the very last person he would have asked for help from.

[sunflowerdroplet]

Now that It's Been Brought to my Attenion

“Wowie-zowie! Our first ever Mushroom Kingdom festival! How exciting!”

Mario smiled at his younger sibling’s childlike excitement as they walked together through the festival grounds, taking in the bright and colorful stalls, delicious smells, and pleasant atmosphere. Princess Peach, as reward for saving the kingdom from Bowser, had given them a sack full of gold coins to spend on anything they wanted. Luigi was particularly interested in all of the unique foods the kingdom had to offer, thrilled to discover new recipes to cook for Mario.

“Who knows? Maybe we might even find a mushroom you might enjoy, big bro!”

Mario chuckled at that. “You’re welcome to try, Lu.”

Many Toads varying in color moved all around them. Some perusing the many different tents and stalls, while others were peddling their wares. One Toad with magenta-colored spots waved eagerly to all potential customers, happily showing off her fruits and mushrooms. Luigi’s cerulean blue eyes lit up at the sight of the items and made his way over to the merchant.

Mario left Luigi to his shopping while he wandered off to look around some more. The older brother couldn’t help but smile as he walked amongst the kingdom’s residents, listening to sound of lively children running about, and the cheerful chatter of the adults talking and gossiping with each other. Every so often, he had someone come up to him, thanking him and Luigi for saving their kingdom and asking for an autograph.

He sighed peacefully, enjoying the warm breeze that caressed his face and brown locks. In no time at all, this place was starting to feel like home. Not only were the citizens welcoming and hospitable to the brothers, but they also accepted Mario and Luigi’s…special relationship, allowing them to show their love for each other without fear of ridicule or discrimination. Which was something they absolutely couldn’t do back home in Brooklyn.

Mario had happily taken advantage of their newfound freedom and showered Luigi with affection every chance he got. And though his little brother still had reservations, freezing up whenever the other so much as held his hand outside their newly built home, he was slowly, but surely becoming accustomed to it. Even going as far as to shyly return Mario’s kisses in front of others.

“Mario! Hey Mario, over here!”

The red-clad plumber turned to see Captain Toad waving his tiny arms at him. He smiled and made his way over to his friend. “Heya Toad, you’re selling stuff here too?”

The red-spotted Toad grinned brightly. “Of course! As an adventurer, I want to provide others with the tools to go exploring as well! Why don’t you take a look? You and your brother were planning on exploring more of the Mushroom Kingdom, right? I’ll even give you a special discount!”

“Wow, thanks Toad!” Mario said graciously, taking his friend up on his offer. He looked over the selections before picking out several pairs of shirts, gloves, boots and pants all praised for their durability and defensive capabilities. If it helped to keep Luigi safe, Mario would spare no expense.

“Oh! Before I forget, there’s something else Toadette and I wanted to show you!” He led the taller male over to an adjacent tent that had more feminine clothing. A pink Toad, also known as Toadette, was presiding over it and she grinned when she saw their approach.

“Hi Mario! Won’t you take a gander at my wares? I’m sure you’ll find something you and Luigi will like~~!”

‘This really is the perfect place for us…’ Mario thought with a smile, ocean blue eyes immediately narrowing in on a gorgeous green dress that would look perfect on Luigi. He purchased it without hesitation, already anticipating the joyful look on his brother’s face when he saw it. ‘Could this day get any better?’

*KA-BOOOM!!*

‘No, but it can get worse apparently…’ Mario thought bitterly as the sound of King Bowser’s laughter filled the air along with plumes of fire.

“GWA-HAHAHA! Run away in fear, you cowardly ‘shrooms! It’s Bowser’s time to do some shopping!” the draconic turtle sneered as the tiny people ran off in different directions to escape his flames. His scarlet colored eyes then narrowed in on a familiar looking green figure, who was currently trying to help put out the fires.  “…and I know exactly what I’m in market for~!” With the push of a button in his clown-copter, a robotic arm appeared and snatched up the younger plumber.

~*OoO*~

“YOU ROTTEN KOOPA! GET BACK HERE WITH LUIGI!!!”

“Gwa-hahaha!” laughed King Bowser as he watched Mario run after him as he flew high in the sky in his infamous Clown-Copter. Next to him was Luigi, all nicely tied up and crying desperately for his older brother. “Serves you right, Mario! You’re always keeping me away from my lovely Peaches! So, I’m returning the favor and keeping you from your precious brother!”

“DAMN YOU, BOWSER!”

Confident that the red-loving plumber wouldn’t be able to reach them, the fire-breathing turtle turned to his captive. Luigi was sniffling quietly to himself, cerulean blue eyes filled with tears as he stared up at the king with fear. Bowser smirked, crouching down so he could be more-or-less be eye level with the more reserved brother. “Oh, don’t make such a scared face, Green-stache! I won’t you hurt too much as long as you cooperate!” He used a razor-sharp claw to twirl and pull the side of Luigi’s mustache, similar to how he had during their first ever meeting.

“Y-You’ll never g-get away w-with this…!” Luigi asserted in a trembling voice.

“Oh?” Bowser asked mockingly, pulling harder on the enslaved human’s whiskers. The resulting whimper sent a small thrill through him. There was just something about the green-loving plumber that made him so much fun to bully. “You have that much faith in your runt of a brother?”

“I do!” Luigi managed to say in a surprisingly steady voice. His confidence in his older sibling was clear. “He’s rescued me from you before and he can do it again!”

Bowser growled angrily at the reminder and yanked harder on the younger brother’s ‘stache, feeling satisfaction at his pained yelp and renewed tears. From the ground, Mario continued yelling obscenities and threats if the Koopa king didn’t relinquish his sibling. The reptilian royal sneered at the older human’s persistence. There was always something odd about the plumbers’ relationship to him. That pesky Mario was continuously protecting and rescuing the citizens of this kingdom, especially the princess, but when it came to his brother there was an unyielding fierceness that wasn’t shown for anyone else. One could surmise that it was due to their brotherly bond, but to Bowser it felt much more than that.

“How does your brother even have time to protect Peaches when he’s so focused on you?” the king wondered. “One would think he was in love with you instead of the princess…” It had been absent-minded comment, but the reaction he received from green-clad male caught him by surprise. Green ‘Stache’s face turned a deep candied apple red, and he began stumbling over his words. ‘What?’ the large turtle thought incredulously. Leaning forward, he sniffed at the small human and could easily smell Mario’s scent on his reddened skin. Again, one could chock it up to them being siblings, however…

“Ack! Wh-What do you’re doing?!” shrieked Luigi when one of Bowser’s claws pulled the collar of his signature green shirt down.

“I don’t believe this!” Bowser laughed in disbelief when he got an eyeful of the numerous hickeys on the captured human’s neck. “Mario’s in a relationship with his own brother?! Oh man, this is just too good!”

“T-That’s none of your business!”

Bowser sneered before grabbing his captive and dangled him from his clown-copter. “How badly do you want your brother back, Mario? Or should I say…your lover?” The outraged noises coming from the older brother were hilarious to listen to, and the tyrant continued to laugh as he taunted his mortal enemy.

“M-Mariooo!” Luigi wailed helplessly, fearful of being dropped from such a great height.

“Don’t worry, Lu! I’ll save you!”

Bowser snorted at the lovers’/brothers’ display. It was beyond him that someone would go after their own flesh-and-blood when the beautiful Princess Peach was right there. ‘…Although…’ Bowser thought after a moment as he watched the younger male sob for his brother. The tears in his cerulean blue eyes reflected nicely in the sunlight and his desperate crying sounded appealing. ‘…there is something undoubtably cute about him. Maybe that’s why it’s so entertaining to mess with him…’ He gave his squirming prisoner another quick sniff. ‘And he smells so sweet…’

“I’ll tell you what, Mario…” started Bowser. “I’ll let you choose who you want to protect more! Peaches or your brother? I’ll gladly keep the one you don’t pick!” As if to prove his point, the fire-breathing turtle gave Luigi a rough nuzzle and a slobbery wet lick to his cheek, thoroughly enjoying Mario’s enraged shouts and Luigi’s squeal of surprise. “Hmm, you even taste sweet, too,” he purred. He continued to cackle until he noticed Mario had disappeared from view. “Huh?! Where’d he go?!”

Both Luigi and Bowser urgently looked around the area below them, and sure enough, the red-clad plumber was nowhere to be seen. “Did he just give up?”

“My brother would never do that!” insisted Luigi.

The pair began bickering with each other until a small shadow appeared above them. Scarlet eyes widened in surprise, not comprehending exactly what he was seeing until something round and fuzzy smacked him in the face.

“Mario!” exclaimed Luigi, tears of relief streaming down his cheeks as he watched his older brother, now donned in a Tanuki suit, fighting the Koopa King. The scuffle caused the clown-copter to lurch left and right as Bowser tried to pry Mario off his face and soon enough, thanks to several whacks of Mario’s thick tail, Bowser was sent sailing backwards into the control panel, accidentally damaging the piloting system with his sharp back spikes.

“Now look what you’ve done!” bellowed Bowser as he tried to wrestle with the controls to keep from crashing. It was worthless endeavor as the flying contraption spun out of control.

Thanks to the momentary distraction, Mario scooped up his bound brother and flew them to safety. “So long, King Bowser!”

“CUUUURSEE YOU, MARIOOO!!” roared the reptile as he careened off into the distance.

“Are you okay, Lu?” asked Mario as he checked over his sibling once they were safely on the ground.

“I-I think so. Thank you for saving me, bro!” He shifted as much as he could in his bondage to kiss Mario on the cheek. “Um, are you going to untie me?” He meeped at the chilling smile that spread across his sibling’s face.

“…Not just yet, Lu. First, I need to get you home to disinfect you.” He scowled at the memory of Bowser leaving his disgusting mark on his lover. “And then afterwards, we can see if that dress I bought you fits.”

“A new dress?” Luigi asked, blue eyes lighting up with excitement. “…But wait, I don’t need to stay tied up for that, right Mario? Bro?”

THE END

[pettyshippen]

Ok Class is Back In Session Cause I’m Drinking Boba Tea and Watching Liberty’s Kids

Bostonians

I just chocked on my boba

What if James and Sarahs first time boning was in a coach while the soldiers were asleep?

“You’ll see them after we’re married.” She tells him to make him anticipate the wedding day even more

BEN CAN WIGGLE HIS FUCKING EAR?

JoHn QuInCy

Henri burned his finger lmfao

Cute little family reunion that Sarah watched from a window

“What do you know about French?” BECAUSE HE IS FRENCH DUMBASS

Henris found his match with John Quincy.

So James is cool just traveling the colonies by himself for newspaper articles.

Yeah Abby is disappointed with John

James is just casually riding with men burning wheat fields

Make Henri and John Quincy look more like teenagers, it will instantly become the hottest ship of the fandom

Wow, Abigail is giving off Eliza Hamilton. Take a fucking break John.

Oh fuck they burned that village tf

Attacking an indigenous village over some misinformation is so fucked up

Alright were catching toads now

“You see with a white mans eyes” BURN

“I will fill your belly with a tale if the English”

This could have been a moment where Abigail started praising Sarah for being so brave all her life despite everything she had been through.

Wait Indigenous people went to Europe?

How in the FUCK did they tie a fucking FLY to a twig!

“I dub thee King George” RIBBIT 🐸

Well at least John asks his wife for her opinion

And she lets Henri read her letter

And then John said bye fam it was lit

Benedict Arnold

*internal screaming*

The villain of Sarahs story

SPIES

That reminds me, I just started watching Turn and I love it so far. I still haven’t gotten to any Benedict or Peggy scenes yet.

Peggys wig

“How many rats is in that nasty weave of yours”

Ah so they’re splitting up

James is fascinated af with spies probably thanks the Nathan

Omg I’ll totally have breakfast with you George

Benedict Arnold could definitely be a Disney villain.

Gaston combined with Frollo

God damn it Arnold.

Oops, bye Andre

The moment James realizes Arnold switched sides, he realized he would need to protect Sarah from him.

“I never argue with my wife” I think you do

“Why did General Arnold just ride off now?”

That gasp

Imagine the shot where you see Sarahs reaction to Arnolds betrayal and you can see angry tears

And then she goes on to write one of the most passionate articles in American history where she compares Arnold to Judas.

“He seemed so thrilled when I told him I had become a patriot. I wonder if he had already become a traitor.”

“You did it for liberty. Arnold did it for money and ambition and he didn’t care who would suffer or die for it.”

Dear I am a pest ok that was funny

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Dumb Luck

Prompt: the usual "Everyone knows Merlin has Magic but Merlin doesn't know they know" but Arthur's being really fucking thick about it. Everything that could possibly be magic Arthur has brushed off as luck or something. At some point Merlin realizes that the knights know (or maybe he's known all along) and the knights tell Merlin that Arthur knows but he's being stupid, which leads to Merlin performing increasingly extravagant/impressive/silly magic in front of Arthur until the point Arthur just asks if Merlin would like him to acknowledge the fact that he doesn't care that Merlin has magic

no brain cells for these boys, leon stop hoarding them

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic who tf knows

Word Count: 2943

Alright. Merlin’s going to be honest. Is the absolute best at hiding his magic from people? No. Is he a damn sight near better than some other bastards would be if they had his magic? Yes, yes, he is, thank you very much. They would do quite well to remember that he is magic, and he’s had it since he was born, so he knows what he’s doing when it comes to knowing that he has it. Yes, thank you, he doesn’t go around doing every single thing he could with magic because well, then he’d never get to do much of anything ever again.

And that would be boring.

But yes, maybe he’s a little petty or lazy sometimes. Honestly, he’s just being efficient. Yes, he can justify pettiness as efficient. He’s just getting them back for something that he would otherwise have to expend so much effort doing. It’s very handy.

So the knights work out he has magic. Big surprise there, he knows. Lancelot is Lancelot, Gwaine is Gwaine. Percival stumbles in on him lifting too much a little too easily and cracks a joke about having Merlin pull his weight more on hunting trips and patrols. Elyan watches him fix armor and immediately clamors to bring Merlin to his and Gwen’s forge so he can actually show him how to fix armor.

Leon takes him aside quietly one day and thanks him. Merlin doesn’t start crying, he doesn’t end up breaking down into Leon’s arms, and Leon definitely doesn’t promise that although Merlin may not have been knighted, he thinks of him as his brother in arms.

Leon is very rude sometimes, as a matter of fact.

But Arthur doesn’t seem to notice.

Now, Arthur doesn’t notice a lot. Doesn’t notice Merlin shifting his chair a little bit so he crashes onto the floor, doesn’t notice Gwen spending just a hair too much time with Morgana in the evenings, doesn’t notice the guards that don’t even pay attention to the dungeons. Like, at all.

But there are some things he…should notice.

Like when a branch suddenly lifts itself up from a forest floor to trip a bandit.

“Bandits,” Merlin mutters under his breath, “why is it always bandits?”

He deflects a blow and sends one of them flying into a tree. Behind him, Elyan parries a blow and deftly clubs the man over the head. Arthur is battling another bandit a few paces away as one tries to run up behind him.

Merlin’s hand is out in a flash and the tree branch right in front of Arthur wheels up and smacks the man across the face.

Arthur whirls around and cuts the other man down, successfully putting an end to the fight. Around the clearing, the knights shake their heads and go about picking up the rest of their camp. Really, being far too calm for men who just killed a bunch of people.

Except for Merlin.

Merlin, while this is happening, is slowly coming to the conclusion that he would like to be swallowed up by the ground and never emerge again.

He just used magic, very obviously, in front of Arthur.

Is this the first time he’s done it? No, not by a long shot, but it is the first time he’s done it without any regard for whether Arthur can see.

Arthur turns and Merlin’s heart drops to his stomach.

Arthur wrenches his sword out of the ground and stalks over to him.

Arthur roughly grabs his shoulder. Shakes. Hard.

“Merlin! Merlin, answer me?”

“…Arthur?”

Arthur’s face is drawn. Grim. Almost his father’s. His grip hurts.

“Where are you hurt?”

Merlin blinks. What? Where is he what?

“Where is it, Merlin,” Arthur growls again, already looking him over, “where did they hurt you?”

“I’m—I’m not hurt.”

“You’re paler than a damn sheet, Merlin, you must be losing blood.” Arthur’s hand is…surprisingly gentle as it lifts his chin. “Tell me where. Come on. Now’s not the time for shame.”

“No, no,” Merlin mumbles, “I’m not—not hurt. Didn’t get hurt.”

Arthur slows, grim expression morphing to confusion. “Then why do you look so…”

If in doubt, poke fun at yourself.

“Just scared, I guess,” Merlin tries with a self-deprecating laugh, “wasn’t expecting bandits.”

Arthur huffs, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Leave it to you to be such a drama queen that I think you’re bleeding out.”

“’S nice of you to care.”

“Just glad I don’t have to drag your corpse back to Gaius.”

2.

So that was…bizarre. Not the most bizarre thing that’s ever happened to Merlin, not at all, but bizarre. Arthur may be a little unobservant at times but he’s not that oblivious.

But, in fairness to him—which is something Merlin tries not to do too often—he was in the middle of a fight and had just killed a man. Knights may not be known for the smarts but they are known for their overprotectiveness.

Yes, he can hear you lot protesting over there, it’s true and you know it.

And maybe…maybe Merlin’s been getting a little sick of Gaius screaming about how secret his magic must be kept in broad daylight with the door wide open. Listen, if you think he’s about to get scolded by your parental unit and not immediately find some way to rebel, you don’t know Merlin very well.

And yes, maybe there’s a sick little thrill he gets out of doing magic in front of Arthur.

Maybe.

So. The next time they’re on a hunting trip and he’s as sure as he can be that there aren’t any bandits around, he decides to push a little bit.

Arthur is lounging around because you can take the prince out of the castle but you can’t take the castle out of the prince and he thinks he’s still about to receive the finest of dishes that Camelot’s kitchens can prepare. Well, no, but he is about to not have to cook it himself.

“Light the fire, Merlin, it’s not that hard.”

“Have you ever lit a fire a day in your life?”

“Sure, when I was training.”

“Training? You needed training to learn how to light a fire?”

“It was survival training, with the elder knights. Had to survive a night on my own.”

“On your own?”

“Well, my own campsite. They stayed about a league away.”

Merlin just sighs and crouches down. He eyes Arthur, who is tending to his sword, and then very slowly but pointedly sets the flint and steel aside. Arthur isn’t paying much attention to him.

Slowly, Merlin leans forward and lights the fire with his magic.

Arthur looks up. Merlin looks back at him. Arthur swings the sword off his lap. He sets it on the log, his hand still wrapped around the pommel. The tip of the blade points straight at Merlin’s chest. It gleams in the firelight.

“See? I told you it wasn’t hard.”

Is…is he serious?

3.

As it turns out, yes. Arthur is completely serious.

And at this point, this is science, now, what Merlin’s doing. Experiments. He has to know the limits! He has a hypothesis, he has a method, he wants to reach a conclusion.

Hypothesis: Arthur is really, really oblivious to anything magical.

Method: do increasingly obvious magic in front of Arthur until he notices.

Conclusion: how oblivious is Arthur?

An important caveat: Merlin doesn’t know how Arthur will react to finding out he has magic, but he can burn that bridge when he gets there.

So when he wakes Arthur up the next morning, he draws the curtains with a flourish and when Arthur turns over and pulls the blanket up to his cheek in protest, he flicks his wrist and yanks the covers off the bed.

What does Arthur do?

Mumble and groan and stumble out of bed saying Merlin’s worse than his first governess.

“Wait, first?”

“Morgana and I snuck a toad into her bed. She quit after that.”

“You two did what?”

“Think there’s still frog spawn in that bed frame. Father had that chamber closed off for a while.”

“You—eat your breakfast, you prat.”

“You’re the one that pulled my blankets away!”

4.

…okay, so he needs to take it up a notch.

One of the ones that pisses Gaius off the most is when Merlin uses magic to polish multiple pieces of Arthur’s armor at the same time. So when Arthur is at his desk, Merlin lays his shield across his lap and grabs two polishing rags. He sets the can of polish next to him and starts working on the shield. When he’s sure Arthur is focusing, he uses his magic to lift the breastplate up next to him and start to beat out the dents.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighs, “can you keep it down any?”

Showtime. “Don’t know what you mean, sire.”

“That bloody racket! Can you at least be a little quieter?”

“What racket?”

Arthur shoves the paper away from him and glares at the ceiling. “That banging! It’s so loud I can barely hear myself think!”

“It’s no louder than you normally are, sire.”

“Oh, you—I ought to—“ Arthur just mutters to himself as he claps his hands over his ears.

But he never looks toward Merlin.

Huh.

5.

So maybe Arthur isn’t ignoring him because he’s oblivious. Maybe…maybe he knows already and is…is trying to protect Merlin.

Uther is still King of Camelot. Morgana is outspoken against his cruelty but he is still very much in charge. There’s only so much protection the knights can afford him. There’s only so much protection Arthur can afford him.

So…so maybe Arthur is pretending he doesn’t see because he knows he can’t save Merlin if he has to acknowledge it.

Merlin takes a few days to process that. The knights are concerned, they ask him what’s wrong, what does he need, how can they help? He waves them off, says he’s just thinking.

“Maybe,” Lancelot says kindly, “but with you, Merlin, you’re never just thinking.”

“Or at least it doesn’t stay that way for very long,” Gwaine agrees, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, “and I don’t know about you lot but I like a little bit of forewarning before I wake up to ale in my shoes.”

“You asked for another round, you didn’t say where.”

“Why the hell would I want them in my shoes?”

Gwaine does what Gwaine always does and steers the attention away from Merlin, leaving Leon and Lancelot to carefully prod him a little more privately. He waves them off too, even though he’s sure he isn’t keeping as much as he would like to be from Leon.

Merlin stops using his magic as much. He does his chores as much as he can using his two hands, lugs buckets of water without complaint, polishes armor until his nose burns and his eyes sting. He uses his magic for particularly stubborn stains in his room and keeps a sharper eye out for how to move this bandit’s sword a little to the right, or how to make this knight’s staff a little heavier.

He thinks Arthur is trying to hide for him, so he hides for Arthur.

Then he can’t hide.

A sorcerer is threatening to collapse the walls of Camelot in on themselves. The entire citadel shakes as Merlin and the knights rush out, dragging as many people as they can. The stone trembles and the wood groans and there are screams. More screams than Merlin could ever bear to hear join the chorus of more than he could ever know that plague him every time he closes his eyes.

He shuts them anyway and runs.

He runs away from the knights, magic pushing him faster, faster, faster with the need to protect the castle, protect the people, protect Arthur. The sorcerer is pulling him away from his people and for that…for that, he must pay.

By the time he gets to the field, it is rippling with magic. Merlin’s fingertips, his ears, even his nose tingles as he rushes deeper, deeper, deeper, trying to get to the eye of the storm.

There, in the middle of a patch of grass, stands a sorcerer. In robes deeper than night and hair whipped up in the wind of the spell.

Merlin grits his teeth and says no.

And when the Greatest Sorcerer to Ever Walk the Earth calls, Magic answers.

The sorcerer is dust before he manages to open his mouth. The field settles. Magic returns to the earth. And Merlin collapses to his knees as the knights run up behind him.

He isn’t a fool, despite what others may have led you to believe. He knows this was magic, could only be magic, and could only be stopped by magic.

So when the knights rush up to him and collapse to their knees around him, muttering that he’s alright, he did it, he’s safe, he did it, is he hurt, all he can think of is how he’s going to have to explain this to Arthur.

They tell him he doesn’t need to explain anything. That Arthur already knows, that he doesn’t care.

Merlin doesn’t believe them. Even if he saved Camelot, which he’s already done, he has magic. He used magic to do it.

They tell him again that it doesn’t matter, that Arthur doesn’t, won’t care.

But Merlin still has to tell him.

“Tell me what?”

+1.

Arthur rushes into the clearing. He can hear him behind them. He can’t find it in him to get up. The knights are still around him, he can hear Lancelot’s voice in his ear, feel Leon’s hands on his shoulders, but he can’t move. Can’t speak.

“Tell me what,” Arthur repeats, and oh, he sounds angry, “what is it?”

“Merlin,” someone—Gwaine—is muttering, “Merlin, it’s alright, he won’t care, he doesn’t care—“

“Of course I care,” comes the cold, cold voice and Gwaine falters, “now move.”

Merlin’s chest clenches. There’s the sharp sing of steel as Gwaine draws his sword.

“Put it down.”

“Nope, can’t do that.”

Then Leon stands up. “Arthur, please think carefully about this.”

“I don’t have to think carefully about anything. Merlin is hurt, let me tend to him. He’s mine.”

“You won’t hurt him.”

“No, I certainly don’t intend to, so move.”

Lancelot’s hands are the last to leave him. Merlin is cold. It’s so cold. His magic buries deep inside his chest and it feels hard to breathe.

Boots. Boots on the ground in front of him. They flatten the grass as a shadow blocks the light. Armor creaks as the figure kneels down. A gauntleted hand cups his chin.

“Merlin,” comes a voice that’s soft, too soft, “Merlin, I need you to look at me.”

And what is he supposed to do, disobey?

Arthur’s face is too warm when Merlin looks up at him. His mouth tugs up into a little smile as Merlin finally makes eye contact with him.

“There you are,” he says, still in that soft voice that doesn’t make sense, “now, are you hurt?”

Merlin can only blink.

“Merlin,” he says, and his voice is a little firmer as he cups Merlin’s chin properly, “are you hurt? What happened?”

His throat is too dry. “Not hurt.”

Arthur relaxes, only marginally. “Then why do you look so upset?”

The world could collapse and Merlin would be frozen here, trapped in the silence of Arthur’s gaze.

Unbidden, his eyes flash gold.

Arthur takes a sharp breath in. Merlin braces for a hit only for—

“Oh, you idiot,” Arthur whispers, “do I actually need to tell you I don’t care if you have magic?”

Pause.

Go back.

One more time.

What?

“I don’t care, you idiot,” he says in a tone that is too fond, “I don’t care that you have magic. You have it, you’re still Merlin, I don’t care.”

Rough metal gauntlets cup his face and oh—it’s cold—

“Merlin, look at me.”

“I—I am.”

“No, look.”

He blinks and has to focus on looking at Arthur.

“I’m not mad,” Arthur says firmly, “and I don’t care that you have magic.”

Merlin starts to laugh. Because of course, of course, Arthur doesn’t care. He’s been so stupid. Arthur doesn’t care. Arthur doesn’t care. He’s doubled over before he can stop himself. The laughs keep pouring out of him, his magic rushing back to his fingers, his nose, his chest. He laughs long and loud and hard and then Arthur is murmuring at him again because no, no, he isn’t laughing anymore, he’s crying.

“Come here, you big baby,” Arthur murmurs, tucking him into the gentlest embrace he’s ever had from someone wearing armor, “yes, there you go, that’s it.”

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

Arthur has known Merlin has magic and he doesn’t care.

…wait, does that make Merlin the oblivious one?

Nah, that couldn’t be it.

It’s not like Arthur is hiding anything else from Merlin.

[robert-de-niro-only-fans]

Dewey Decimal System

Max Cady x Reader in the library, no plot, just smut

Dedicating this little work to @droogiesanddiscourse who just today found out she's graduating with honors!!! I'm so proud of you bb!!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️

TW: smut, public sex, explicit/raunchy dialogue, Max Cady in general?

Word Count: 2.2k

“My baby’s so smart, knowing how to find any book in the library,” your boyfriend, Max, coos quietly to you as you saunter through the aisles and aisles of books, softly leading him with his hand in yours. “You know I didn’t learn to read until my stay in the big house, but I never did learn numbers all that well. I’m glad my little princess can navigate this, uh, what do you call it? Dew something?’

“The Dewey Decimal System!” you whisper in a giggle.

“The Dewey Decimal System...” he tried the words out on his tongue, “Well, I’m glad you can lead me in the right direction, angel.”

“Oop, right here!!” you point up at a tall shelf. Max’s body crashes into yours, nearly landing you both on the floor, as you stopped so suddenly.

“Goodness gracious, girlie, you must be excited to do some reading, huh?” his voice rumbles lowly next to your ear. His muscular arms wrap tightly around your midsection, pressing your backside against him. You can feel his arousal stirring already; he really has no qualms about doing nasty things to you, any time, anywhere. “Oh, baby, I’m already thinking about you reading to me... Hearing that sweet little voice say such naughty things, those pretty little lips forming unholy syllables...” And in true Max Cady fashion, his fingertips are already teasing at the edge of your skirt, threatening for his rough palms to attack your delicate thighs.

You feel a single finger creep up to your hip, teasing at the waistband of your panties, “I hope you aren’t particularly fond of these, ‘cuz they’re coming off now, honey.” And with that, his other hand quickly follows the first one up your skirt and before you could even protest, the man is on his knees and the lacy underwear around your ankles. He helps you out of them as is you were a toddler, getting them over your shoes.

He quickly snatches a book from the bottom shelf and flips it open to a random page before stuffing your panties in it and shoving it back on the shelf. “Max!!!” you whisper-yell.

“What?” he plays dumb, standing back up to press himself into your backside again. “You don’t want someone findin’ your panties? Knowin’ what we did in here? Mmm, well I wanna spread the word about you, baby... Besides, they can use it as a bookmark.” His hands grip your hipbones and he gives you a sloppy kiss on your neck, making a loud slurping noise.

“Max! Shhh!!”

“You’re so cute, all worried about getting caught. You think we’ll get in trouble if someone sees us, or god forbid if someone hears us in this quiet place?”

“Maaaaxxx...” you whine.

“Mm, yeah? You like that idea? Someone hearing the way I turn you into a whore for me? You don’t sound as innocent as you look once I get you goin’.” His hand slides around to your sex, teasing you roughly through the smooth fabric of your skirt, and when you let out a little whimper, it only proves his point.

"Alright, princess, why don't you grab us that book we're looking for?" Following his question, Max's strong arms easily hoist you off the ground, lifting you up, up, up to reach that top shelf and pull down one of Max's favorite books: 𝘛𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘊𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳. Oh, and don't think that he missed the opportunity to peak under that skirt...

• • •

As you and Max relax in two adjacent armchairs that he scooted close together, you recite prose from your boyfriend's favorite author. Just a few pages in, you're already at one of his favorite parts. You can read the sheer excitement on Max's face when he says, "Alright, darlin', you better speak up for this next part, you know how much I like the dirty bits."

You look around, making sure no one is nearby, and you start, "'At night when I look at Boris' goatee lying on the pillow I get hysterical.'"

"Louder," Max tilts his head forward, looking at you from under his brow bone.

You raise your voice only slightly, "'O Tania, where now is that warm cunt of yours, those fat, heavy garters, those soft, bulging thighs?'"

"I can't hear you..." he chimes devilishly.

"'There is a bone in my prick six inches long...'"

"And what's he gonna do with it?" Like he doesn't already know.

"'I will ream out every wrinkle in your cunt, Tania, big with seed,'" you look around again, checking for any poor passersby, "'I will send you home to your Sylvester with an ache in your belly and your womb turned inside out.'"

Max let's out a low whistle, "That Henry Miller suuuure knew what he was talking about, huh?" He leans forwards and rather directly slides his hand under your skirt, thumb quickly parting your lips to find that special little bundle of nerves.

You gasp loudly, and Max continues, "Yeah? You want me to turn your womb inside out like he did to Tania? Make that little cunt smooth with my big cock?" His voice is just loud enough that it still sounds intimate but anyone walking by could easily hear.

In an attempt to quiet your moans, you press on reading, "’Your Sylvester! Yes, he knows how to build a fire-‘"

"’But I know how to inflame a cunt!’" Max finishes your sentence for you before pulling you up out of your chair and into his lap, where his fingers quickly find their place between your thighs as if it is the most natural thing in the world to him. "Keep reading, princess," he whispers softly in your ear.

You become aware of his hard length pressing into your thigh, as you read the line, "’I shoot hot bolts into you, Tania, I make your ovaries incandescent.’”

Max lets out a deep moan that rumbles your eardrums and presses some kisses to your cheek and jawline.

“‘Your Sylvester is a little jealous now? He feels something, does he? He feels the remnants of my big prick. I have set the shores a little wider. I have ironed out the wrinkles,’” Max starts to rut against you in his lap. His hands take a firm grip on your hips and slide you back and forth against the erection trapped in his pants. You keep going, “‘After me you can take on stallions, bulls, rams, drakes, St. Bernards. You can stuff toads, bats, lizards up your rectum. You can shit arpeggios if you like, or string a zither across your navel.’”

His moans become quite noisy and his hands search for your flesh; one hand slipping under the edge of your shirt to feel the soft skin of your tummy, the other getting an anchor hold on your hair and giving it a rough tug. You inhale sharply wincing at the pain. You can tell Max is getting needy for you; it would never cease to fascinate you how some little girl (anyone is small next to his towering muscular frame) could have so much control over him.

“‘I am fucking you, Tania, so that you'll stay fucked. And if you are afraid of being fucked publicly I will fuck you privately-‘“

“Damn, that sounds like a good idea,” Max grunts out and unzips his pants, “I sure hope you aren’t afraid of being fucked publicly.”

His next few actions only take a few seconds, and before you can even realize it, you’ve been hoisted up and swiftly dropped down onto your boyfriend’s thick cock. You somehow let out a gasp and a squeal at the same time, and Max claps his hand over your mouth. The only other sound is the thud of the book hitting the floor and closing. Where Max wanted you to speak up before, now it’s time for the quiet game...

“How’s that feel? Daddy’s big cock stretching out those tight walls, huh?” Clearly, it’s a rhetorical question since his hand stays clasped over your mouth. It’s Max’s turn to tease you with his words. “You always take me so well, my little princess. You think if anyone walked by they would know that you’re filled to the brim with my prick? You’ve been trained well, baby girl, you can take me and no one knows I’m inside you, but I know how turned on you are, I felt how wet you were when I was touching you. You wanted this, and I bet everyone knows how much you wanted it, I bet that librarian in the next room knows you have your pussy stuffed right now.”

In all honestly, this guy Ryan had just started working at the library; he had hoped it would be more a bit more relaxing than his job at the local drive-in movie theatre. But Ryan recognized you and Max when you came in, and he really, REALLY doesn’t want another awkward interaction with your boyfriend, so he’s gonna leave you to do whatever you want in the back room of the library...

His hand still covers your mouth as you lean your head back onto his shoulder, looking at him out the corner of your eye. His other arm braces your hips, keeping you flush to him so you can feel every time his member twitches. “You feel me, princess? Feel that ‘bone in my prick’ and how bad I want you?”

You nod your head as much as his grip will allow, eyes never leaving his.

“If I can be frank, sweetheart, Daddy’s never been good at this whole cockwarming thing like you are. It always leaves me wanting more, and you know Daddy can’t resist having more of you... Whaddaya say we play horsey instead? I’ll bounce you on my lap like the dumb little baby doll you are, just like your old man did for you when you were a kid."

You let out an excited little whimper, and Max moves his hands to your hips. "Now I can't keep a hand on your mouth anymore. Think you can keep quiet for me?"

You nod your head excitedly and whisper as quietly as you can, "Yes, sir, Daddy. Can I have a kiss?"

"Aww, of course you can, angel," his lips meet yours in a wet, unrefined fashion, giving you the rough kind of kiss you need. Max also takes this moment to start bouncing you in his lap, just like horsey. With your lips pressed to his, it muffles any sounds that escape the two of you.

His thrusts are small and quick, but actually really satisfying at this angle. The girth of him presses against that special spot inside you. That combined with the thrill of possibly getting caught already has that feeling creeping up in your belly. Your nails dig into his hips looking for something to ground you as you find ecstasy in your orgasm.

But your climax isn't gonna stop Max from what he's doing. He continues to bounce you on his lap, whispering, "Mmm, finished so soon? You must like bouncing on my cock. Bouncy, bouncy..."

You bite your lip, still riding out your orgasm as he continually slams into your g-spot. When a drawn out little whine hums out of you, Max shushes you with a "Shhhh, shhh, baby. You're doing so good, such a good girl for Daddy. Just a little longer, I'm so close, princess."

With your brows furrowed and eyes closed tight, you brave yourself on the arms of the chair. You feel two calloused fingertips at your bottom lip, and you open your mouth, taking them in.

"There that'll keep you quiet for this next part," Max warns before absolutely plowing his hips up into you as fast as he can. His other hand maintains such a firm grip on your side, you think he'll probably leave bruises.

Max chokes back a deep grunt and pulls you down into his lap to spill his seed inside you. You feel his length jolting and that warm gooey liquid. You both sit there catching your breath, and Max wraps his arms around you in a loving embrace.

He gets you to look at him, placing another dirty kiss to your mouth. Then he pulls you off of him, stand up, places you back down on the chair, and gets his pants zipped up.

"Um. Max?" you whisper, a little tense.

"What is it, little darlin'?" He gets on his knees in front of you, placing his big hands on your thighs.

"Uhhh... I think there's gonna be a little mess on this chair," you get right next to his ear and oh so quietly tell him, "it's, uh, leaking."

"Aww, are you worried about leaving some of my cum on the chair?" he places a hand on your chin, "That was the point, baby. The librarian can handle it." Max gives you a wink before taking you by the hand and leading you out of the library.

Poor Ryan.... Scarred again by Max and his girl, and now he has to clean up after them.

[elizabethrobertajones]

I still don't know what to make of this little story beat. I KNOW the game isn't being written for me, personally. I Know that despite saying otherwise, Bounding Frog is not the Canonical Warrior Of Light. I understand that things just kinda happen based on themes and characters and stuff and things had been established in some way with Erenville having toad-based associations, having previously claimed to be an expert.

On the other hand, the first zone I chose to go to, the very first thing we did, was split up to go investigate a body of water and draw some conclusions like an amateur ecologist on what may be afflicting it. And there was a cute little creature named Lethargic Frog, which is about as "hey this is symbolically important to you, Bounding Frog, someone who takes their whole name inspiration from the admirable leaping power of a healthy frog based on their childhood experiences catching frogs, just as the noble Vipers named themselves after the snakes they learned from" as can be.

This frog was placed here for Frog to see and based on her entire personality, to notice and care about and understand how it was not feeling good.

Also, the writer of this quest wanted Bounding Frog personally to know this was her chance to prove to Erenville that she did know her frogs, and was perfectly capable of talking to him frog expert to frog expert. I can't overstate how thrilled she was that she had this opportunity. She was going to show him that she was just as competent! She could impress him, she could prove she was worth talking about frogs to... Yep.

Aaand then after all this careful study of the Lethargic Frog, she bounces back to the group, and this happens...

She starts to explain about the water quality and fields, saving her deepest insight for last, you know, the other thing the quest made sure we would see and interact with so even if I allow for a WoL to exist who isn't a Frog Expert like mine (who this quest was personally tailored to, again) you might reasonably expect that after Krile has agreed with you about the first point, you MIGHT KEEP SPEAKING ON THE SUBJECT OF YOUR OBSERVATIONS.

Nah, before Frog can open her mouth again, Erenville cuts in to announce that the frogs are kinda sleepy, while she was politely waiting her turn to speak. All she can do is stoically nod and agree everyone noticed the same things she did (shh Alisaie has something funny to say on the subject before you return to the group to chat as well), and that's that, we're rushing off to the next thing and the opportunity has fizzled out and there's no chance to impress because Erenville stole it from her...

How could they have known we need to start this adventure with a huge knock to Frog's ego when it comes to Erenville, and a reminder of why they've been snarking at each other for months. And he's far more concerned with Wuk Lamat presenting a semi-competent front and feeling chafed by travelling with other people to even notice he was, once again, catastrophically rude on the subject of frogs, to Frog.

All her attempts to befriend him and make him laugh and generally have him notice her for the last few months, and she's riiiight back at step one, fuming about his existence and sulking about how he won't let her have the one thing she most prides herself on, because he's too busy being some sort of frog snob himself.

So, yeah, I think the writer of this quest knew that Frog was the main character and also that Erenville is her nemesis :)

[eastofthemoon]

Title: A Rose Has Thorns

Rating: G

Series: The Owl House

Characters/Pairings: Hunter/Willow

Summary: It was Hunter's first solo mission since he left the Emperor's Coven and moved into the Owl House. All he had to achieve was purchase a few items at the market. That should be simple, right? 

Archive of Our Own

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Luz asked.

Hunter sighed as he held up the list, swinging the basket over his shoulder. “I can handle a shopping trip, Luz.”

“Yeah, but I'm pretty sure you’re not exactly used to things like shopping,” Luz retorted. “I mean, from what Lilith said about the Emperor's Coven...”

Hunter couldn’t deny that. Most of the domestic chores in the Emperor’s Coven were handled by servants or abominations. Hunter had never even done his own laundry until he found himself living at the Owl House.

That had been an interesting lesson. Eda claimed Hunter had done well, but Hunter had a hunch that setting clothes on fire was not as common as Eda claimed.

Hunter sighed as his cardinal flew to his shoulder. “Look, I’ll be fine. I have my palisman with me and I have actually bought things before.”

Luz chewed her lower lip. “Yeah, but-”

Eda placed a hand on Luz’s shoulder. “Let him go, kiddo. If Hunter wants to do this solo we've gotta respect that.”

“Besides, it’s not like he could do any worse than you did,” King called out from the couch. “He just has to avoid trusting any wizards.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “Why would I trust a wizard? They’re famous for being shady-”

“Oh, wow, would you look at the time,” Luz said nervously as she pointed over her shoulder. “I have to, uh, go get ready for my date with Amity! See you later, Hunter! Byyyyyye!”

Luz hastily dashed out of the room. Hunter turned to Eda.

“Do I... want to know?” he asked.

“Meh, I'll fill you in on the blackmail later,” Eda said as she crossed her arms. “Seriously, kid, you sure you don’t want to at least take King with you?”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “For the last time, I’ll be fine. I’ll be back within the hour.”

-----------------------------------------

Two hours later, Hunter couldn't suppress the twitch in his eyelid. He had finally managed to find almost every item on the list... except for formian crystal. He was almost tempted to just return empty-handed, but he knew the house needed it for their crystal ball - whatever his opinions on King's shows.

Besides, it was a matter of pride at this point. After his declarations, how could he prove to Luz and Eda that he could be useful and handle things like a normal person if he didn't return with every item on the list?

Unacceptable.

His cardinal gave a comforting tweet. It had tried to give him some suggestions, but hadn’t been in the market place for a long time. So in spite of intentions, the little palisman knew even less than Hunter.

Hunter patted the cardinal’s head as he glanced around the various shoppers passing by. There were many less people around at this time of day which admittedly is why he had come alone. There was a much lower risk of one of the Emperor Coven guards spotting and arresting him on the spot.

Still, Hunter wasn’t thrilled with the idea of asking someone for help. What if they recognized him and reported him? Maybe if he picked the right shopkeeper- Wait. Not far from him were a couple of girls close to his age.

Chances of them turning me in is lower, Hunter thought and walked over. At least if they're anywhere near as anti-authority as the human. I’ll ask them.

The two girls were laughing over some joke, but stopped abruptly as they noticed Hunter approaching.

“Hey, can I ask you two a quick question?” he asked.

The girl with pink hair and three eyes looked at him and smirked. “If you mean where to get a better fashion sense, that is not going to be a 'quick' answer.  Where do we even begin?”

“Uh no,” Hunter said with a raised eyebrow. “I just wanted to know where I could find someone selling formian crystal.”

The other girl tapped her chin in thought. “Um. That's for old crystal balls, right?  I think there’s a booth over in the east-”

“West side,” the pink haired girl jumped in with a grin. “She means there’s a seller on the far west side of the market.” She turned to her friend. “Right, Skara?”

The girl named Skara blinked, but then nodded rapidly. “Oh..uh, yeah, like Boscha said.” She gave a shaky smile and pointed. “To the far, far west side.  Nearly...outside the market?”

“West side, okay,” Hunter said as he started walking in that direction. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” the girl named Boscha said with a smirk.

Hunter found her a bit odd, but he was too worn out from shopping to worry about it.

“Last item.  Last item!  I can do this.  I just need to get this done so we can head home,” he said aloud to his cardinal.

Another hour later, Hunter had been up and down the west side of the market three times but he still hadn’t found any formian crystal.

“Where is it,” he grumbled as his cardinal hovered nearby. “It’s supposed to be here!”

The cardinal tweeted in his ear.

“No, I will not just go home,” Hunter said as they continued to walk. “I can't fail my mission, and it isn't complete until I find-”

Suddenly, he walked straight into someone's back. The pair of them let out a grunt as each, separately, stumbled and fell to the ground.

Hunter quickly forgot about his annoyance as he scrambled to his feet. “Sorry, are you okay?”

The person he had bumped into was another girl. She waved off his concern as she adjusted her glasses and dusted the dirt off her clothes.

“Don’t worry,” she said with a small smile. “A little dirt never hurt anyone.”

A bee palisman carrying a small basket hovered nearby and the girl gave it a pat on the head. “I’m okay, Clover - oh dear.”

Hunter looked down and saw what she had noticed. The items from his basket had fallen out when he had crashed into her.

“Great,” Hunter grumbled as he knelt down and started picking them up. “Just what I needed.”

He started gathering up and inspecting the items for damage, engrossed in his task until a jar of toad jam was suddenly thrust in his face. He hadn’t realized the girl was kneeling next to him and was helping to gather everything

Hunter blushed. “Uh, thanks,” he replied. Why didn’t I see that?

“You're welcome,” the girl replied, still smiling. “Do you need help with anything else?”

Hunter sighed. “Actually, yes,” he said as he rose. “Can you tell me where I can get some formian crystal?”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Formian crystal?  Here?”

“Yes.  The vendor that’s supposed to be stationed in this area.”

The girl frowned. “Um..last time I checked, no one in this part of the market has ever sold anything like that.  This is the area for fertilizers, cloth dyes, and any of the really pungent produce.”

“What?!” Hunter cried. “But that Boscha girl said there was a stall here for it.”

The girl’s eyes widened, then narrowed as she held a tight frown. “Wait, Boscha? Three eyed girl with pink hair? She told you to come here?”

Hunter didn’t like where this was going. “Uh, yes. I’ve been searching for over an hour.”

The girl sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Boscha, honestly…” She shook her head. “I kind of hate to tell you this, but she lied.”

“What?” Hunter growled. “Why would she do that?”

 Was it all a trap? Was she working with the Emperor’s Coven-

“Because she’s a mega jerk and probably thought sending you to the 'smelly' end of the market would be funny,” the girl replied firmly, crossing her arms over her chest. “She has a twisted sense of humor.” She pointed to herself. “Personal experience.”

“Oh,” Hunter mumbled. “That kind of makes sense.”

He glanced over the list. Maybe he should just head back now. He had wasted enough time as is and there would be...concerns if he wasn’t back soon.

The girl gave a small smile and pointed. “Come on, I’ll take you there.”

Hunter blinked. “Um..take me where?”

“To where you can get some formian crystal.”

Hunter frowned and tilted his head. “You will? But... why?”

“Because I want to,” the girl replied. “Besides, I was heading in that direction anyway.”

Hunter paused. Should he trust her? What if this was another trick? But without her intelligence, he had no way to avoid failing his objective.

“Are you coming?” the girl asked with a concerned frown.

Hunter shook his head. “Yes, sorry.  I was just lost in thought.”

The girl smiled back. “I’m Willow by the way.”

“Hunter,” he replied, frowning to himself. Willow? That name sounds familiar. Wonder why?

He tossed the thought aside and quickly caught up with her.

True to Willow’s word, she took her directly to a stall selling assorted magical crystals, including what he was looking for. She even helped him bargain to get it a few snails cheaper.

Hunter tucked the small bag carefully in the basket.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No problem,” Willow replied with a smile. “I know what it’s like dealing with a bully far too well.”

So, do I, but on a different scale, Hunter thought as his mind drifted back to the Emperor’s Coven.

His cardinal tweeted and Hunter patted his head. “I have to get home, but thanks again for the help.”

“Sure thing,” Willow said as she began to walk in the other direction, the bee buzzing busily beside her. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Hunter said with a wave.

As he walked home. The girl’s name bugged him. Willow...Willow...I know I've heard that name somewhere, but where?

Hunter got his answer exactly two days later.

Luz had invited two of her friends over for a 'study session'. Amity had apparently been dragged off into ‘bonding sibling time’ with her brother and sister, which was admittedly a bit of a relief for Hunter. She was still suspicious of him over that whole Eclipse Lake business.

Gus was the first to arrive. He seemed wary of Hunter, but was mostly friendly.

“If Luz says you’re okay, then I’m willing to trust her opinion,” Gus said. “She’s a pretty good judge of character.  Besides, it's hard to pull the wool over an illusionist's eyes!”

Hunter couldn’t help but agree with him.  Or at least his opinion of Luz.

They chatted for a bit before Luz’s other friend arrived. Hearing a new, and yet somewhat familiar voice, Hunter raised his head and froze.

It was the same girl who had helped him at the market. It was only then his brain connected the dots.

Willow, as in Luz’s friend Willow who she talks about all the time, Hunter thought with a gulp. Cursing his poor memory, he stood up.

“And this is Hunter,” Luz said as she pointed to Hunter. “Also formerly known as - wait for it - the Golden Guard.”

Willow gave a shaky smile, but it vanished as she spotted Hunter. The basket slipped from her fingers, kept up only by her bee palisman's efforts.

Hunter coughed as he gave a sheepish wave. “Um...hi?”

He could feel everyone’s eyes on them as the silence between the two of them continued.

She’s probably just as surprised as I am, Hunter thought.

Luz got in between them and frowned. “Something wrong?”

Hunter rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh...we've met before. Actually."

Luz tilted her head as Gus grasped his chin in thought, muttering under his breath.

“You have? When?” Luz asked.

“Uhh…” Hunter stammered as he struggled to find an explanation that wouldn’t have Luz fretting over him.

“In my dads’ shop,” Willow chimed in quickly, fending off King's attempt to climb her and peer into her basket.

Hunter blinked. “The shop?”

Willow gave him a look and suddenly he understood.

“Rrriigghhhttt,” Hunter said slowly and gave a shaky smile. “I was just curious so I popped in for a quick look.”

“Yeah, and we had a nice little chat,” Willow added.

“Oh,” Luz said as she placed an arm around Hunter’s shoulder. “Man, the Boiling Isles.  Small world, am I right?”

“Suspiciously small,” Gus commented, tapping the spine of a book.

“Who cares,” King said as he pointed at Willow. “The important thing is that I’m smelling tasty yum-yums that should be in my tum-tum, but they're still in that basket.  You have brought tribute to your monarch, and it must be delivered!”

Willow smiled. “You're right!” she glanced at Luz. “It’s snaggle bread but my dads left out the fairy wings so Luz can enjoy it.”

“Aw, that was nice of them,” Luz said as she moved to take the basket. “How about I get some plates?”

“I can do it, I know where they are,” Willow offered as she headed into the kitchen.

“Okay,” Luz said. “There should be some toad jam in the cupboard too!  Fresh from the market!”

Hunter glanced behind as his cardinal landed on his shoulder.

“Um..I’ll go make us some tea,��� Hunter offered as he pointed. “Be right back.”

He ignored their baffled expressions as he ventured into the kitchen. Willow didn’t turn around. Hunter hesitated, considering talking to her, but finally just moved towards the kettle in silence, turning on the tap.

More silence followed until Hunter turned off the tap and placed the full kettle onto the stove.

The clearing of a throat caused Hunter to look up. Willow had finished arranging slices of bread on a plate with the jar of jam, and was rifling through the butter knives.

“Ssssooo,” Willow began as her bee fetched teacups from the pantry, “I’m assuming you didn’t want Luz to hear how we actually met?”

Hunter covered his face with one hand. “Yes, please,” he groaned. “If she found out how my first shopping trip went, she would never let me live it down.”

Willow’s face softened. “Luz isn’t like that,” she admonished as her bee palisman landed on her shoulder. “But I get how being tricked by Boscha can be kind of embarrassing, so I’ll respect your pride.”

Hunter sighed. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Willow crossed her arms. “However, there is something else I want to make clear.” Her eyes narrowed. “Amity and I do talk about things, after all."

Hunter sighed. He’d been expecting this. “All right, let me have...it?”

Suddenly, Willow was holding one of the knives and was stomping forward. Hunter barely had time to react before he found himself pinned against the wall. His cardinal gave a concerned tweet, but the bee was buzzing angrily nearby and it stayed where it was on the counter.

Hunter could theoretically get out of this. Probably. Maybe. Willow was shorter than him and he had more training, but she had a weapon and he didn't - not to mention the sheer determination shining in her eyes.

“Luz is a very dear friend to me, and I care a lot about King, Eda and Hooty,” Willow stated firmly as she held the butter knife unwaveringly. “Now.  I do believe in second chances.  That's why Amity and I are friends again.”

“Under...stood,” Hunter said slowly, wondering how a simple butter knife could be more threatening than Kikimora's clawed monsters.

“I do, however, wish to inform you that Luz is friends with a plant witch.  Plant witches know about plants.  Including which ones are very toxic,” Willow pulled his shirt collar close until both of their noses were touching. “If you betray Luz, or Gus, or Amity or anyone in this house you'll get first-hand knowledge of dragon fly blossoms.”

“The... burning, stinging kind?” Hunter guessed.

“The same,” Willow said as her bee gave another buzz. “Do we have an understanding?”

“Clear as formian crystal,” Hunter replied as he held up his hands.

Willow’s smile returned. She slipped the butter knife up her sleeve and her bee suddenly became much calmer.

“Good,” she said and took a deep breath as she steadied herself. “Oh boy, that took a lot out of me.”

Hunter wasn’t sure how to reply, but was thankfully saved by King’s voice.

“Where are those snacks?!” he cried. “Your tiny tyrant is getting hungry here!”

“Be right there,” Willow called as she gathered up the plates. “Coming?”

“In a minute.  I, um.  Need to wait for the water to boil to make tea,” Hunter added quickly.

Willow smiled, nodded and left the kitchen.

Hunter took deep breaths until he heard the kettle boil, removed it from the stove and started pouring it over the teabags. As he was putting the lid on the teapot Hooty extended his head into the kitchen window.

“Wooow, that was intense,” Hooty commented.

“No kidding,” Hunter commented as his cardinal landed on his shoulder and then paused. “Wait, you saw the whole thing?”

“I see everything in this house,” Hooty replied cheerfully.  "Eeeeeverythiiiiing."

“And you didn’t do anything?  Say anything?!” Hunter asked.

“Willow wouldn’t have hurt you unless she had to,” Hooty replied as he smiled. “She’s a lovely lady who's as sweet as a dragon fly blossom.”

Hunter kind of understood. Helping out during his first shopping trip proved what kind of person she was. And yet, there was that look in her eyes. Willow, for all her sweetness, was clearly also a person who was willing to protect those around her.  Whatever the cost.

Even A Rose Has Thorns, Hunter thought.

It was a line from one of Belos’s old books. Hunter never quite understood the significance. Of course roses had thorns. It was just how they were.

He looked to where Willow had stood. Now he felt like he understood the full significance.

“She’s very admirable,” Hunter muttered, andis cardinal tweeted in agreement.

He glanced at Hooty and saw the house demon was smirking at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You liiiiike her,” Hooty sang as he wiggled about.

Hunter blushed. “What? Well...Yes, I mean I hope to be her friend.”

“Oh, old Hooty has been around all the blocks!  This is clearly the beginning of a slow-burning subconscious unrequited crush,” Hooty replied in a sly tone.  "That is, for noooooow~"

Hunter waved his hands in the air. “What makes you think that?!”

“Oh, I don't knooooow," Hooty smirked.  "Why are you blushing?”

The words died in Hunter’s mouth as he fumbled with the kettle, putting it aside and sweeping the teapot onto a tray.

“I’m leaving now,” he declared.

“Feel free to ask me for advice,” Hooty called to his retreating back. “I’m knowledgeable in all the glorious and sinister ways of the heart! Just look at how I helped Lumity set sail!  Literally!”

Hunter vowed he would never ask as he left the kitchen.  And did his best to ignore the tweeting of the cardinal on his shoulder.

[clnriswood]

DRACO MALFOY X CEDRIC DIGGORY X READER

Something Different | Part One

premise: With Lord Voldemort’s recent rise to power, it’s no surprise that the usually lively aura of Hogwarts has had a signigicant damper placed upon it during the girl’s sixth year there. As she enters the new school year, now a prefect alongside her best friend Cedric Diggory, Y/N battles with uncovering the dark secrets that lie within the elusive Draco Malfoy. In doing so, she uncovers a greater darkness; the one within herself. As tensions rise amidst her pivotal sixth year, sorrow truths make themselves seen, and an unexpected love flourishes.

*In this timeline Cedric was born the same year as Harry, and therefore didn’t compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Instead, it was Angelina Johnson who suffered a horrible fate under Voldemort’s terror in Harry’s fourth year.

a/n: I haven’t been this excited to write in MONTHS. This is going to be a long and angsty journey and I couldn’t be more thrilled to write it. Please do give a like/rb if you enjoy it and be sure to ask if you’d like to be put on a tag list. 

X

Platform nine and three quarters was roaring with life. Footsteps fell heavy as children rushed to the glittering scarlet train, owls screeched amongst the commotion, and luggage scraped as it met the inside of the locomotive. Amongst the commotion, one girl in particular found herself being especially jostled around as she rushed full speed at the soon closing doors of the Hogwarts Express. Her hair was tied messily into a ponytail, strands of all sorts and sizes flying free and finding themselves tangled against her eyes and lips. Her breath came fast and heavy as she leapt onto the train and patted quickly at the glimmering sheen of sweat on her brow. The students around her were causing an unruly clamor, one she tried passively to slide her way through, her eyes wide as they searched high and low amongst the crowd for a familiar face. A rogue toad had children yelping and jumping from its way, the creature making a straight beeline towards the girl, who scoffed absentmindedly and scooped the creature up with an upward curve of her lips.

“Neville,” she laughed softly to herself.

The sound of the train roaring itself in preparation, a deafening whistle bellowing from its belly, sent the crowd dispersing. The girl flinched up in surprise, edging her shoulder past a fellow classmate, who turned sharply to face her. His jet black locks were messy as ever atop that glorious little lightning bolt on his head.

“Harry Potter,” her lips split, eyes twinkling with like.

“(Y/N),” he mirrored with a huge grin.

“Stop by my compartment later?” the girl asked hopefully.

“Uh-” Harry’s eyes narrowed as he gave a faint little shake of his head. “Maybe, yeah. I’ve just got to go about something first.”

She stared at The boy-who-lived with wide eyes, knowing full well the expression he wore was one of what could only be mischief. But, being six years in now, she knew better than to question whatever adventure the idiot was chasing.

“Alright,” she shrugged in defeat, extending her hands. “But do me a favour and return Trevor to Neville, will you? Before you go and do whatever stupid thing it is you’re planning?”

Harry nodded, “of course.”

His searing green gaze narrowed on someone, or something, rather, further along the way down the train. Whatever it was, though, was not hers to find out. The girl gave Harry’s arm a little squeeze as she made way down past the bustling compartments and towards one she knew would surely have a spot for her. By the time she’d reached the end of the slowly moving train the halls were cleared empty… or so she thought. For a figure, clad in dark fabric, found itself barrelling into her front, making the air shoot from her lips in surprise as she went stumbling back. He, being taller than her, towered over her front. From her vantage point, the girl saw only a crisp black tie and the steel cut jaw of a boy with snow white skin. The cologne on his front hit her nostrils hard, filling her lungs with a remarkably sharp minty fragrance. While that alone may not have been enough to tell her who the boy was, her eyes needn’t make it past the sneer he wore to tell her it was Draco Malfoy. Her eyes shot up to his elusive blue ones, unsurprised to see they were brimming with annoyance.

“(Y/N),” her name rolled off his tongue with distaste.

As long as she’d known the boy he’d said it that way. First when she was sorted into Hufflepuff and he’d jeered at her not sixty seconds after her departure from the Great Hall, and every year after that, when he got the chance. Likely, the only person he had more of a distaste for was Harry Potter himself.

“Draco,” she jeered back, her brows knitting with dislike.

He looked different from the last time she’d seen him, when he’d exposed her and every other member of the D.A. to that old hag Dolores Umbriddge. Gleaming from his chest, for the first time, was an emerald green prefect’s pin. But that was the least notable change about him. Far more noteworthy was how the boy looked a little leaner, a little paler, and a little more gaunt. His hair was cropped neatly and there was a sort of sallow sadness that sunk into his skin. Even his eyes lacked their usual annoying glimmer. The girl saw this all, and it made her searing gaze soften. If she didn’t know better, she might be worried for him.

Draco seemed to catch onto the unspoken words her face was telling, for his eyes flickered quickly away as he scoffed shortly and nudged her harshly aside with his shoulders, dismissing the girl with a final jeer.

“Oi, Malfoy,” a voice stopped him.

The boy turned, his eyes lifting to meet his speaker.

“That’s no way to treat a lady,” continued the amused voice of Cedric Diggory.

The girl turned, her face aching as she gave the boy the largest smile she could muster. Cedric Diggory was already in his robes, like her, but they were loose and messy, just like the golden brown mane that grew dangerously long atop his head. His yellow tie was undone around his neck, and featured well with the golden “prefect” stamped pin he wore. The summer sun had kissed his skin just a little warmer than usual, making his ocean blue stare more intense than ever. He gave her a wink with those stupid blue eyes and flashed his white teeth attractively at her before snapping his attention back to the Slytherin.

“Yeah, you’d know all about that, Hufflepuff,” Draco scowled in reply.

But even his scowl seemed off, like it was taking more out of the boy to be a nuisance than usual.

“Come up with something new!” Cedric encouraged with a wave as Malfoy slinked quietly away.

The girl couldn’t help but snort, dropping whatever little nerve Malfoy was striking to focus her attention back on her best friend.

“Ced,”  she pursed her lips hard as she fought back another grin.

“(Y/N),” he glowered, his skin flushing with warmth as he scooped her into a hug.

She threw her arms loosely around him, thrusting her weight off the balls of her feet so as to better reach him. The familiar scent of aftershave and parchment greeted her nostrils, and the back of his neck was cool where her hands rested. The girl prepared to shrug him off with her usual little friend-pat but grew concerned when she realized Cedric was hugging her just a little bit tighter and longer than he normally had done in the past.

The boy seemed to realize, as he pulled quickly away with a little grunt, “you smell like lavender.”

She chuckled and tilted her head in confusion, opening her mouth to reply but finding herself following Cedric quickly into their compartment before she could. The train was moving fast now as it departed from platform nine and three quarters. Two of her fellow housemates, Ernie Macmillan, and Julian Dolohov, awaited them. She noticed at once that Cho Chang was missing from the group, but Cedric looked unbothered. Her friends greeted her as she plopped down into the seat beside the chilly glass window, pressing her head to it as she sunk lazily back and made chatter of her summer. When it came her turn to talk, the girl shrugged modestly.

“Ced and I practiced loads of quidditch when I visited,” she said. “Otherwise I was with Hermione, first at her parent’s place and then cooped up at the Leaky Cauldron.”

Her thoughts grew a little distant as she reminisced on the now dark and un-lively cobblestone paths winding through Diagon Alley. Practically the only source of life left in the place, in fact, was the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. Having no family in her own picture, the girl had found herself frequenting the Granger’s, something she didn’t quite mind being that Hermione had been her closest companion for years now. With her mother being murdered at a young age, and her father vanishing alongside Lord Voldemort soon thereafter, Hermione was the closest thing she had to a family. Come to think of it, she must be going off somewhere with the other Prefects now, she thought.

“...for the quidditch team, right?” she heard Cedric finish, interrupting her thoughts.

The girl snapped back to reality, “sorry, erm, what?”

Cedric laughed, “I was just saying that you feel ready to try out for the team this year, right?”

The girl laughed an airy laugh, “uh, yeah.”

That was a lie. She felt nowhere near ready for that kind of anxiety inducing horror. But Cedric held strong in his belief that she was ready, and as captain of the team, she had to trust him just a little, right?

Julian grinned, “yeah well, Cedric could always lend you some extra time to practice one on one, now that he’s freed up.”

“Freed up?” the girl raised a brow.

Cedric clenched his teeth together in annoyance, giving his friend a shove to the ribs.

“Yeah, since him and Cho broke up,” Ernie continued obliviously.

The boy half yelled half grunted with frustration.

“You and Cho broke up?!” she gaped.

Cedric slumped his shoulders in defeat, his eyes growing particularly interested in a patch of ceiling as he nodded. His long fingers found themselves toying with the soft blue felt on his seat.

“Why?!” she said, her mouth still wide. “I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”

He squinted with an aggravated little tilt of his head.

“Wanted different things I guess,” he mumbled, clearly uninterested in discussing the topic further.

“Alright,” she dropped it cooly, glancing quickly at the other boys, whose expressions told her they knew more than she did.

Cedric, still warm with pink, stood abruptly, “c’mon, (Y/N). We have duties to attend to.”

“Yes, right,” she cleared her throat, glad for a semi smooth change in topic, “we’d better be off.”

Their friends whooped and whistled at the two, feigning a swooning amazement at their prefect status.

“Shove it,” Cedric snorted, his nose wrinkling as he grew redder yet.

“Wait,” she stopped the boy, who was already halfway out the compartment.

He turned, face quizzical as her hand met the side of his arm. The girl turned him forward and reached into her chunky black boot, from which she procured her wand. She was silent as she flourished her wand, dragon heartstring and vine, and gave it a graceful swish. Cedric’s tie momentarily gained a life of its own as it curled up, around, and under, before resting neatly against his chest. He looked dashing as ever.

“Thanks,” he chuckled, his eyes glittering appreciatively.

The sky was growing dark with rain now, and it came pelting down hard against the windows, like fists on the glass. The two prefects began to make their way down the Hogwarts Express and to their obligatory Prefect meeting, but hadn’t gotten three steps down the corridor before a sudden BANG threw them off guard.

For an instant, it seemed that a sneaker, attached to an invisible body, flew past them. No sooner had the foot passed than an explosive cloud of black erupted around them, filling the air with a glittering black smoke. Her friends, from behind her, threw the doors of their compartment shut with a cough and wave about the air.

“What was that?” she spluttered.

“Probably just some first year messing about,” Cedric assured, unbothered as he fought his way through the sea of darkness.

The girl arched a brow as she waved a curl of the black mist from her face, “yeah, probably.”

She doubted that seriously.

. . .

The Great Hall was quieter that year. One might expect as much given that the incarnation of evil had been reborn. The hundreds of glittering waxy candles winked at students from above their heads, the bright house ties of the students flooded their respective tables, and the glass overhead made clear the inky scape of the night sky. Everything looked the same, but the feeling in the air was sticky and thick with buried worry. During the more somber house assignments, the girl found her mind drifting, stretching as high as the Hall’s ceilings. She couldn’t help but drift. Neither could many others, it seemed. The usual buzz of nerves and excitement was instead replaced by a deathly quiet. And so, as she sat, she scanned the many faces in the hall. First Cedric, whose eyes flickered instantaneously to hers, and who gave her a massive flash of his teeth, making her heart feel just a little lighter in her chest. And then she looked to Harry Potter, who had stumbled into the Hall late and now stared forward while a ridiculous glob of blood dripped from his nose and onto his lips. In questioning, her focus then shifted to Hermione, who’s weary brown eyes met her own before she indicated her head with a tilt across the hall, to Draco Malfoy. The girl’s eyes went there, next.

Draco was hardly attentive to the words the Sorting Hat spoke. Instead, he had his chin resting lightly upon his neatly folded hands, his eyes dark with some sort of silenced hurt as he stared holes through the oaky Slytherin table. While the feast then shortly commenced, the huge gleaming platter before him sat empty and lifeless, just itching to be filled like those of his friends around him. But they were all engrossed in their meals, and never once did the snow white boy show interest in eating, talking, or even moving. He played the part so well she almost considered if he’d simply frozen himself right there, his elbows iced into the hard surface beneath them. But a quick glance to his white knuckles, which were dripping in fine gold rings, told her she’d found the perpetrator for Harry’s broken nose. A thin line of blood trickled across his middle finger, and it was as scarlet as the ruby red blood dried to his arch enemy’s face. That made her grow hot with rage.

As she glanced back at the boy's empty plate, and then to her own, she found that she wasn’t particularly hungry either, but Cedric continued to sneak little pieces of pork and potatoes he’d cut for her onto her plate, insisting she eat. As she did so, her eyes absentmindedly met their final interest; Cho Chang. She was only one table away, but it was her stare that beckoned the girl’s own. Cho’s lips formed a tightly sealed line as her eyes went first to the girl, whose hair was unruly and sunshine yellow tie was crooked, and then to Cedric, who was somehow managing to make cutting vegetables look appealing. Those eyes looked glossier when they left than when they had first seen her, but Cho had turned away so fast that she couldn’t quite make out the tears forming in them. While a normal friend might’ve found it concerning, the truth was the two girls were never quite close. Cho hadn’t seemed keen on pursuing the girl’s efforts at kindling friendship, and she’d always either kept to Cedric or her own friends when they’d been dating. Now, it seemed clear enough that there was a world of resentment between the two. Or, maybe just on her side, it seemed. In reality, Cedric hadn’t even noticed his ex girlfriend’s gaze. No, he was too busy fighting off a housemate's hand and trying to procure the last chocolate covered strawberry for (Y/N) beside him, who sat festering in the millions of thoughts shooting through her brain like fireworks.

Her thoughts had been quelled only to a dull roar by the time Dumbledore gave his closing remarks to the students of Hogwarts. He stood before the Hall now, his voice soft and contemplative as his speech came to its end.

“Every day, every hour, this very minute, perhaps… dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle's walls. But in the end, that greatest weapon… is you. Just something to think about.”

His audience was silent in reply.

As he departed from the podium, the old wizard’s beard flew gracefully, robes billowing as he swept back to his seat with a push of his glasses up his crooked nose. The man sat thoughtfully, his all knowing blue eyes observing the students before him with a look that read strangely like it could be the last time he might do so. The hand he pressed to his lap was black, she realized, and charred with decay. But there was nothing to fear, surely. For he was the great Albus Dumbeldore, and he made Hogwarts the safest place she could possibly be. That’s what she had been thinking, when she noticed.

As the students around her had clamored loudly about, rising from their seats and speaking in a low chatter, she noticed one other person, still in his seat, staring at Dumbledore. But he didn’t stare in the way that she had, with concern, or with reassurance. No, Draco looked right at Albus Dumbledore, and the look he wore was one of fear. At least that’s what she’d gathered, in the short moment before his steely icy eyes came snapping her way and narrowing right in on her own curious ones. She waited for a scowl, a sneer, anything of the usual sort, but it didn’t come. His perfectly slender white fingers were light against his hollow cheeks, and his eyes moved quickly back and forth between the contemplative parting of the girl’s lips and the sharp arch of her brow. And so the girl looked at the boy, and, for what was perhaps the first time ever, the boy looked back.

[fictionadventurer]

More Than All the Gems On Earth: A Retelling of Diamonds and Toads

My mother beats me black and blue while I cast diamonds at her feet. The gems fall from my lips with every apology and plea for mercy, and they scatter across the rough-hewn floor like bits of broken glass. My mother would crush them if she could, and she hates them all the more because she cannot destroy them. The vipers from my sister’s lips slither among the diamonds, cold-blooded creatures born of poison words.

“You did this!” Mother screams, twisting my arm in her iron grip. “You spiteful little wretch! You’ll pay for this!”

It has always been this way--my sister makes the mistakes and I am punished for them. Olive’s task had not been difficult. She had only to walk to the well and give a drink to the old woman who asked. A mere moment of kindness. Yet Olive failed to give even that, and received toads and vipers as her reward.

"I’m sorry!” I cry, and I am. It’s a frightening punishment, even for someone as cruel as my sister. I pity her more than I ever have.

Olive has never felt pity. She slaps my face with the back of her hand. “Witch!” she spits. The word turns into leopard snake as long as my arm; it falls to the floor and twines itself around my leg. “You said she was a beggar, not a princess!”

I try to avoid the toads created by Olive's words as I struggle to escape from Mother. She is pulling me toward the cellar, the place of my most feared punishments. Why is it my fault that the fairy chose another shape? Should it not have been easier for Olive to show kindness to a grand lady?

“No, please!” I scream. A desperate plea for mercy. For understanding. For love.

I had thought that my jewels would make Mother love me, but not even my diamonds were good enough for her. They had to come from Olive. Her hatred of me has destroyed them both, and as always, I am the one to blame.

The thought hardens in my heart like the sapphire that forms in my mouth. They will never love me. They despise the very diamonds I give them simply because they fall from my lips. There is nothing for me here but hatred and misery.

As she strides toward the cellar, Mother steps on a bulbous toad. Her shriek of horror splits my ears, but her grip on my arm loosens. I pull away and sprint out the open cottage door. I flee into the forest with nothing but the clothes on my back and the gems that fall from my lips.

#

Standing by the stream, my words turn into pearls. Milky white, blushing pink, and one as large as my thumbnail that’s as warm and black as a soft summer night. I let them fall into the soft mud of the bank, smiling as I watch the pile grow. Though gems are now common as sand to me, I haven’t tired of their beauty. I speak poems to the sunrise just so I can watch them fall.

I pick out the purest ones from the pile, leaving behind the very small and very large, the ones that are more difficult to use as payment. I brush the rest into the stream, hoping the current will carry them on adventures. Perhaps they’ll be a windfall to a widow in need. A surprise catch for a fisherman. The prize a prince needs to win the heart of his true love.

I put the rest into my pocket, preparing for another day of silence. Which village shall I travel to today? My legend has spread to most of the countryside. Most believe me an eccentric princess. Others accuse me of thievery. I stay where people will accept me and not question my muteness or my money too closely. I’ve paid for nights at an inn with an emerald that could buy a lord’s palace. I buy dresses with pure pink rubies, groceries with chips of diamonds. Most people can’t fathom the value of the gems I give them, but people are starting to suspect, and I’ve become more wary of strangers.

Perhaps it’s time to settle down. Speak myself a fortune that will buy me an estate and servants. Walls to hide behind and people to protect me. For a price, of course.

It’s a cold, uncomforting thought. Would I really be safe among people whose loyalty was bought by my jewels?

The sky darkens with my mood as I travel along the forest path. Is this the best I can hope for? A wandering, lonely life with only as much security as money can buy?

My tears fall with the first raindrops. The cold rain drips down the neck of my gown. Chills run up my spine. I remember the cottage of my childhood. The snug roof. The warm kitchen fire. So long as I avoided Mother’s wrath, it wasn’t a bad life. At least I had a place. A purpose. Sometimes I find myself longing for a hearth to clean or a kettle to scrub.

When thunder rumbles, I remember the cellar. The slam of the door blocking out all light. Long, cold nights with bruises forming on my arms and legs. Mother’s red face as she slapped me that last day. Olive’s snakes winding along the floor.

The memories are too much, and I curl up beneath a tree to weep. I have no past that isn’t tainted by pain. No future that isn’t fraught with fear. I have only myself, and she’s a pitiful comfort in this rain-filled forest. The fairy called me beautiful and good. What use is either to a girl forever alone?

A voice from above, warm and deep, cuts through the cold rain. “Are you hurt?” 

I look up to see a young man on a horse. His clothes are finer than my ruby-bought dress, though he’s rain-soaked and roughened with forest dirt. He carries a gun, and three red and white spaniels stand beside his horse, but he’s no huntsman. I cannot mistake the ring on his hand.

Curled up as I am, I require only the slightest shift to fall prostrate. “Your highness,” I say. Two amethysts fall, hidden beneath my down-turned face.

I hear him jump from his horse. His footsteps are soft in the damp earth and stop mere inches from my ear. “Are you hurt?” he asks again, voice full of concern.

I shake my head in denial.

“Then there’s no sense laying in the mud,” he says. He offers a hand and helps me to my feet. He examines my mud-stained silk dress, my rain-soaked hair, the pack over my shoulder. He meets my eyes and says softly, “You’ve been crying.”

I nod and wipe away a tear, or perhaps a raindrop.

“Why?”

I cannot refuse a question from my prince. After months of silence, it almost feels good to have the choice taken from me. I give him the simplest explanation I can. “My mother has driven me from my home.”

Two roses, a lily, three sapphires, and an emerald the size of a blackberry fall into the mud. The prince watches them fall in astonishment. He picks up the lily, running a reverent finger along a pure white petal. He looks at me. His eyes are like a child’s, wide and innocent and bluer than the sapphires at my feet.

“Why?” he asks again, the question barely more than a whisper.

I don’t know if he’s asking why the flowers fell or why my mother cast me out. Since both questions have the same answer, I tell him my story, beginning with the old woman at the well and ending with my flight from the snake-infested house. Gems and flowers pile at my feet, one for every word I speak--diamonds and daisies, pearls and pansies, rubies and roses. When I finish the story, he takes in the bounty through eyes as wide as dinner plates.

The prince closes his eyes and shakes his head like a man snapping free from the effects of a spell. Then he gives me a sympathetic gaze. “You’ve been alone ever since?”

The sorrow in his voice steals my breath. I haven’t heard such sympathy since my father died. My mother certainly had no concern for my emotions.

Struck speechless, I can only nod.

“Here in the woods?”

I shake my head. “I’ve stayed in inns. Traveled town to town.”

Four more flowers. Four more gems. He watches them in wonder.

“With a fortune falling from your lips?”

“I never speak around people.” I catch five pearls and put them with the bounty in my pocket.

He notices the action and his eyebrows rise. “Yet you carry gems with you. It’s a wonder you haven’t been robbed.”

I can only nod in agreement. Nobles with far less wealth than I have been waylaid on these roads. Now that my story is spreading, I’m not sure how long I can safely travel alone.

He holds out a hand. “Come home with me,” he urges.

I step beneath the sheltering trees, shaking my head. “I don’t know you, sir.” Four carnations and one perfect diamond disappear into the undergrowth.

He sweeps into a courtly bow. “His Royal Highness, Prince Simon Everill.”

Propriety demands I curtsy in return, but I do not speak.

Softly, the prince says, “It’s not in my nature to abandon young women in the woods to fend for themselves. The castle often takes in travelers. You can stay for as long as you like.”

I’m not sure if it’s me he’s inviting or the pile of gems at my feet. But what other option do I have? Miles of walking in the rain, to a town I’m not certain will accept pearls as payment? Days upon days of looking over my shoulder and waiting for highwaymen to find me? This prince, stranger though he is, may be my best chance for safety.

I dip a deeper curtsy. “Thank you, sir.” I catch the three seed-sized diamonds that fall and place them into his palm.

He brushes them away. “No payment,” he says. “Not for hospitality.”

But for other things, perhaps? What plans does he have for my future?

He helps me onto his horse, then mounts behind me. What is your name, my lady?” He asks.

“Agnes,” I say. The word drops to the ground as a flawless ruby.

#

Simon and I sit on the hillside, the castle wall a comforting guardian behind us. We laugh as a spaniel chases away a flock of sparrows. Another spaniel, less zealous in our protection, sits with her curly-eared head in my lap. I run my fingers through her fur and feel a warm thrill in my chest. I have food, clothes, comfort, companionship. I have never been so rich, and it has little to do with the store of gems beneath my mattress. 

Simon has kept my secret during these weeks. At least he says he has. I’ve gotten strange stares from the servants lately, like they don’t know what to make of me, and during a few sleepless nights I’ve wondered if the story I told Simon has been making the rounds. It’s more likely that they wonder about my extended stay, but I can't quite silence the doubts. 

Simon tells me a story of his last visit to the River Kingdom, and I pepper him with questions. When we are alone, I don’t guard my tongue. My words blow away as buttercups on the breeze, and we let pearls scatter on the hillside like seeds for the sparrows. Even if someone were watching from a distance, I doubt they could make out the miracle among the waving grasses. 

When Simon’s story is done, I am breathless with laughter. I’ve never met anyone as gifted with words as he is--high praise from the girl whose voice creates jewels.

Simon smiles at me as I wipe tears of mirth from my eyes. “Agnes,” he says, “You are the most charming girl I’ve ever met.”

“Because I laugh at your stories?” I ask, my tone teasing. Daisies dance away from us.

He takes my hands between his. “Because you’re beautiful, and kind, and gentle and generous and you have more patience than I could show in ten lifetimes.”

The praise surprises me. I’ve long known I’m pretty--I do have a mirror--but I’ve never received compliments on my personality. Mother and Olive made it clear that I was a weak, stupid, spineless thing, and given how long it took me to escape their clutches, I’ve never had reason to disagree.

I feel a blush burning on my cheeks. “You don’t need to flatter me.” The words fall as dull, uncut shards of brown topaz.

“Agnes.” His eyes burn like sapphires in the sun, his voice desperate as a man reaching for a lifeline at sea. “I hadn’t known you three hours before I knew there was no woman in the world who could compare to you. Please, marry me.”

He pulls a golden ring out of his pocket. Within it sits the perfectly-cut ruby that fell when I first told him my name.

I pull away, heart racing. I wonder if it’s possible for my eyeballs to fall out of their sockets from behind my too-open lids. “Simon,” I gasp. His name is a diamond that blinds me with its brilliance. “I can’t. I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

The whole universe has been built upon such things being impossible. I can’t explain reality in a few simple words. I settle for saying, “I can’t marry a prince. I have no title. No family.”

“What does that matter? My father would never forbid it. The gift you have is worth more than any dowry.”

My heart hardens like the sapphire that I spit at his feet. My weeks of happiness here fade away like the childish dream they were. This has been his plan from the beginning. The invitation, the conversations, even his silly little story as we played with the spaniels. All given in hope that I would let my guard down and let him claim every word I speak for the rest of my life.

The ruby in his hands now gleams like a drop of blood from my beating heart. He had gone back to retrieve it, without a word to me. Has he hoarded all the other gems I’ve dropped during our conversations? Have I ever seen the real Simon? Or has this all been an act to get me to the altar? I think of Mother in a million moments of my childhood. After her worst outbursts of temper, she would sigh and beg forgiveness, saying such sweet things that I rushed to her open arms, desperate for long-withheld affection. The moment I came within her reach, she would hit me so hard that my ears rang. I am suddenly certain that Simon’s real face will emerge the moment we marry. I will be his precious trained pet, speaking only to fill his coffers.

I would rather live in Mother’s house again. And I would rather die than do either.

I leap to my feet, gathering my skirts.

“Agnes!” Simon leaps up, alarmed.

I back away from his outstretched hand, tears flying. “No!” I gasp. The word is a dead daffodil. “No, never!”  The last word is an opal, and I fling it at his chest. Then I clamp my lips shut. I will give him no more of my treasures.

I race down the open hillside. Though Simon is taller, he cannot catch me. Years of living in terror have given me speed. The spaniels race after me, barking in alarm, but I soon outpace even them.

I disappear into the forest, trailing silent, worthless tears.

#

It’s an apple blossom morning. My orchard is full of the fragrant blooms, branches weighed down with millions of pale pink and cream flowers. Matching blossoms fall from my lips as I speak my morning prayers. The flowers land lightly on the rain-dampened earth, a carpet of silk for the would-be queen.

I haven’t seen Simon since last summer, and I’m glad of it. I’m proud of the life I’ve built outside of his palace prison. I spent the first weeks in terror, certain he would send soldiers to scour the country and bring me back to the palace in chains. When my first whispers of courage appeared, I traveled on foot to a northern city, one large enough to hold several jewelers. I sold off a month’s worth of words for a small fortune. I bought a modest house on the outskirts where the city kissed the open countryside. I hired servants from agencies, then replaced them until I found people I believed I could trust. My housekeeper has a moral spine of steel. I speak freely in her presence, and she does nothing more than lift a disapproving eyebrow toward the gems that cover her clean floor. She believes my habit to be extravagance bordering on indecency. My butler is a sweet old man, half-blind and half-deaf. I don’t believe he notices my flowers or gems. I sometimes slip him one as a present, spinning some tale of a grandmother’s jewels that I’m giving away.

The garden I care for myself. I’ve planted some of my word-flowers as cuttings, and I hope they will grow. I think the roses have the best chance of taking root. I spend hours out here whenever the weather’s warm, letting the silence and sunshine and blessed hard labor wash every thought and emotion from me. It is only on mornings like this that I let myself feel anything at all.

Something rustles the tree behind me. In the corner of my eye, I see a million apple blossoms rain down. I turn, expecting to see a bird or a particularly heavy squirrel.

It’s Simon. He stands beneath my apple tree in all his palace finery. He is still pale from the winter, but his eyes are bright as ever. He bends at the waist, an apologetic bow. “Your housekeeper let me in.”

Of course she did. Greta can’t refuse entry to a prince. I’m reminded again of how powerless I am before him.

I stand in silence, waiting for the renewal of last summer’s offer. I steel myself in advance against his declarations of love, his flimsy praises of my person, the lies upon lies upon lies he will spin to snare my heart in his web. I scan for movement along the garden walls. Has he brought servants? Soldiers? If he has, there’s nothing I can do, but I won’t give him victory by showing him how frightened I am.

He doesn’t speak. He barely moves. He could be a new statue I bought for the garden. Finally, he asks, “Are you well?”

I nod.

“It’s a lovely house,” he says. “These trees are exquisite.”

Another nod.

Simon’s eyes stay on the blossoms. “The neighbors say you never have visitors.”

Of course I don’t. My gems can buy a house, but they make a social life impossible. How could I attend card parties and balls with diamonds falling with my every word? A mute heiress is a curiosity, but never a friend.

Simon runs a hand along a branch. A dozen petals fall. “Are you lonely?” he asks.

I am, but I hate him for asking. It makes me sound pitiful. I want to be alone. Loneliness is safe.

A falling tear betrays me. The eyes that can spot a partridge across a field watch it fall to the petal-strewn ground. “I thought so,” Simon murmurs. “That’s why I brought this.”

He reaches behind a tree and slides out a basket. Something inside rustles and whines. I step toward it, too curious for caution.

Simon lifts up a squirming puppy. Russet patches blaze on its white fur. I gasp and run my fingers through the silky curls of its ears. It’s so young and warm and alive. I gather it into my arms and let it lick the salt water from my face.

Puppies don’t care about dowries. Diamonds are nothing more than pretty stones for them to chase. They care about food and fresh air and the sheer joy of being alive. I could have no better companion.  

I bury my face in the puppy’s fur. “Thank you,” I breathe, crowning the puppy with apple blossoms.

Simon’s grin makes me think of a summer sky. “She’s fine hunting stock, and I think she’ll make an excellent guard dog someday.”

I don’t care about the future. She’s mine now, and I cry from the sheer joy of having a friend.

Two friends, a tiny voice in my mind insists. Even if this is only a ploy to capture my heart, it’s a very kind stratagem. “Thank you,” I say again.

Simon nods and gathers up his basket. “You can write me if you wish. Tell me how she’s doing.”

My heart shies away from the idea, from another strand that could tie me closer to the crown. But I know what Simon’s dogs mean to him. Refusal would be pointless cruelty. “I will,” I say.

The words fall as a perfect pink pearl. The puppy treats it as a toy.

#

Leaves fall in clumps of color, crimson and orange and gold. Lady wrestles with them while I read my letter; my dog knows better than to disturb me while I read on this bench. It overlooks the orchard and seems the only fitting place to read letters from Simon.

We’ve exchanged more than twenty in the past six months, starting with mere updates about Lady’s health, and slowly expanding to include tales of our days, stories of our childhoods, discussions of philosophy and our feelings about the world. It’s a relief to use as many words as I want without worrying about the flowers and jewels that fall, and I filled five whole pages, front and back, with crossed writing in my last letter. Simon’s reply is nearly as long and I devour every neatly scrawled word, delighting in the sentences that seem to carry the sound of his voice.

His stories are as engaging in writing as they are in person, and before I realize it, I’ve reached the last page. These words have not been crossed; only one set of neat sentences covers the half-sheet.

Darling Agnes, he writes. The endearment shocks me like a thorn among roses. My heart is more yours than it has ever been. I wish with everything I am that those diamonds would dissolve to dust, if it would help you believe that I love you despite your jewels. I repeat my offer from two summers past, and I hope you know me well enough to rightly judge my sincerity. I can only pray you will pity a foolish prince who has done nothing to deserve a wife so far superior to himself.

The pages of the letter fall like flakes of snow, and I tremble like the leaves that cling so precariously to the apple trees. The last months dissolve like a dream and I’m back on that hill outside the palace, back in the cellar with my blossoming bruises. Love is real, I know, but it is never given to me. Simon cannot be offering it, not truly. These months of friendship have been glorious, but a few heartfelt letters are not the same as agreeing to be a man’s wife, giving him my heart to treasure or cast off at will. He will cast it off, I know it. In a day or a week or ten years, it will be thrown into my face as a weapon, my heart aching all the more because I gave it so freely to someone who despised me.

I race into my writing room, pull out a paper, and dip a quill in the ink. My hand shakes violently, but it doesn’t matter. The page only needs one word.

No.

#

Snow covers the garden like diamond dust. The jewels I speak disappear into the drifts behind the house. I cast them out for Lady to chase, and my words of praise provide gems for the next game.

When Lady tires, we walk to the front garden. Two of my yellow roses took root last summer and have become tiny spindles of bushes. I brush the snow from their branches to keep them from being crushed. Dogs and roses--the only things I can safely love.

“Such kindness,” says a voice from outside the gate. I look up to see a gray-haired crone in a ragged cloak. She smiles with crooked teeth. “Do you have any for an old woman?”

I hurry to the gate, reaching under my cloak and pulling coins from my purse. I regularly exchange my jewels for coins now, and I always keep a supply for the poor. I place five of the largest in the beggar’s hands, enough for a month of meals and a comfortable room.

The woman gives it a satisfied smile. “Bless you.” She tucks the coins into her glove. “You’re seen as something of a ministering angel among our kind, lady,” she says. “Beautiful and kind and as mysterious as the holy mountain.”

I laugh. I’ve gotten better at holding back my jewels when I need to, so I feel safe saying, “I’ve been very blessed.”

"Then why are you so sad?” the woman asks.

Her gray eyes pierce me, making it seem pointless to hide my secrets. I give her the least dangerous part of the truth. “I have no family.”

“Girls with that problem usually try make one of their own. A lady like you must have a hundred beaus to pick from.” 

I pretend to cough into my hand, and I slide eight tourmalines into my purse. “Only one,” I say.

“And what a one,” the woman says, leaning over a fence as if to share a secret. “The prince himself pining away for you in that great palace.”

I gasp and forget to stop the daisies from falling. “How did you...?”

“Half the town knows about the royal seals on those letters,” the woman says, “and knows the postman hasn’t seen one for four months, about the same time that the prince stopped attending social functions.”

My blush burns so hot that the beggar could warm her hands by it.

The woman places a comforting hand over my trembling one on the rail of the fence. “You’re being very unkind to that poor boy. Do you think you’re the only one in the world with a good heart?”

It’s like she sees into my soul, and I suddenly remember a gap-toothed woman by a faraway well who knew my history just by looking at me. This woman is shorter and darker-skinned, but those gray eyes hold similar secrets.

So I speak to her like I’ve spoken to no one else--pitiful, pathetic words. I sound like a frightened child as I reply, “It’s the only heart I can be sure is good.”

“Nonsense. Ain’t you talked to him? Seen him? What has he said, promised, done? Has he ever been cruel? Angry? Wicked?”

No, no, and no. He gave me shelter, friendship, love. He let me run away from him. He brought me Lady. If he wanted my jewels he could have sent a hundred men to drag me back to his palace in chains, but aside from the ruby for my ring, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him touch one of my precious words. The only monstrous things he’s done have been inventions of my own terrified imagination.

But my imagination won’t give up so easily. “He could be one day.”

“So could you,” the woman counters.

“I couldn’t throw him in the dungeon.”

The woman closes her eyes and sighs. “Love is a risk. Trust is a great gift. Will you hoard it all for yourself or find the courage to give it away?”

I let out my breath in one long, weary sigh. “I don’t know if I can,” I say. The first words are daisies and chips of diamonds. The last one falls as a perfect ruby in my gloved hand.

The woman presses both her hands around the hand with the ruby. When she pulls them away, the jewel is set in a ring of pure gold.

“Try,” she says.

#

Simon steps into my writing room, looking disheveled and a little bewildered. He brushes snowflakes out of his hair and steps toward my desk. He holds up a hastily scrawled letter. “You called?”

I step toward him and place the ruby ring in his outstretched hand. “I would like,” I say, the words creating a bouquet of roses in my arms, “to make a proposal.”

#

Simon and I kneel before the priest. The pearls from a thousand grateful prayers are draped in long chains across our shoulders and arms. Simon is radiant, a million silent words speaking of his love. He makes his vows with unhesitating enthusiasm, then the priest places the same questions to me, asking me to take Simon as my husband, whatever may come, to the very end of our days.

“I do,” I say.

The sapphires that fall from beneath my veil gleam like tears of joy.

[rhetoricalrogue]

I took the afternoon off and while doing chores I had planned on doing over the weekend, I had an idea for Dani and her best friend Lisette.

"Trevelyan's hiring again."

Dani didn't look up from her task of feeding the messenger ravens. "Which one?"

Lisette scoffed. "You know which one. The hot one."

"That's not narrowing my choices down, Lissie." More food was scooped out and put into the dish Dani knew Ser Barnabas had claimed for his own. As if on cue, he swooped down from the rookery rafters and settled on the perch closest to Dani.

"Rolfe. You know, the one with the information network?" Lisette sighed. "What I wouldn't give to run my fingers through his hair."

"Pretty boy," Ser Barnabas croaked, stretching his neck out for pets. "Pretty boy."

Dani paused long enough to give the raven scritches where he wanted them. "Ah, him. Not my type, but he is a pretty boy. What's the job?"

Lisette stuck out her tongue at Dani's sad lack of taste when it came to attractive men. "Infiltrate one of the chateaus in Jader, get a read on this new baron that's set himself up that no one really knows anything about, in and out with no casualties."

Dani turned to look at her friend, who was busy sweeping up dried raven droppings from the floor. "You already signed us up for this, didn't you?"

She grinned. "I already signed us up for this. How's your Orlesian? Have you been doing the lessons I gave you?"

"I haven't needed to take Orlesian lessons since I was nineteen, you toad," Dani grumbled in the same language.

"Hmm, perfect sentence structure, but your accent needs work."

"Ugh." Dropping a quick kiss on Ser Barnabas' beak, she put her hands on her hips. "Please tell me I'm not going to be stuffing myself into some frilly dress and playing the part of a nouveau riche noblewoman."

Lisette stopped sweeping. "Well..."

"Lisette Jacqueline Deveraux!"

"It's only for a week, I swear! And we're the same size, so you don't have to go shopping, you can raid my closets!"

"I'm going to break my ankles wearing those ridiculous shoes you keep buying!"

"Daniella, you take that back! My babies are stylish!"

"Can't I just go in as your personal maid? I can get more information through the chateau's hired help than I ever can trying to pretend I'm nobility while frantically trying to remember my manners."

"Too late, I already told Trevelyan and he's thrilled to have us on the job." She stopped sweeping and came up next to Dani, bumping her shoulder with her own. "Cheer up, he's also sending in one of his own to cover the hired help. You remember Bruno, yes?"

"Big, bald, intimidating looking gentleman that's really one of the softest marshmallows you'll ever meet? With the impressive beard?"

"Handsome man!"

Lisette laughed. "Seems Ser Barnabas knows what's up. Bruno's going to be our driver, he'll make sure that any gossip in the stables and chateau grounds are covered."

"At least we'll be working with a professional. And how long is this job going to take?" She did the mental calculations for how long it would take to travel from Skyhold to Jader and back, then added in the weeklong duration of the actual job. "You planned this perfectly to fit in with the time we had off from the last job Sister Leliana put us on."

Lisette gave her a satisfied smirk that made her look like a cat that had caught and devoured the canary. "I am a tactical genius. We'll be back before our next scouting rotation."

"You," Dani accused, poking Lisette in the chest with her finger. "Are insufferable, and a wretch."

"Which is why you love me more than life itself."

"Apparently against my better judgement." Giving Ser Barnabas one more scritch, Dani brushed her hands off on her pants. "Well, what are we waiting for? Shouldn't we be packing our things?" She knew for a fact that Lisette had a trunk full to bursting of finery, and that she'd also commandeered more than half of Dani's own personal trunk space.

Jader. She ran through her mental list of places she remembered Varric mentioning from their last conversation in the tavern a few days ago. She'd make a point to visit with him before leaving to see if she couldn't be of some use and earn some brownie points in the process.

Besides, she knew she could forge his signature pretty believably by now. If she ran across any of his books in a shop while she was there, she'd autograph them for him.

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Red Witch

Jasper Hale x Reader Part 6

A/N: Part 6 is here lovelies! And I hope you all are doing well! 💕

Summary: Imagine being an immortal witch from the Middle Ages and being the previous love of Jasper before he was turned. You two were separated under certain circumstances and cross each other’s path once again, years later in the present era.

Warnings: language

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

That night you had went to bed early, only to awaken at the crack of dawn the next morning. Today was the day of your performance. You layed there in bed beneath the sheets for a moment with your hands resting on your stomach, staring at the ceiling and pondering on yesterday’s events. Your anxiety had almost cost you your identity, and you did not want that to happen again.

You got out of bed, adjusting your eyes to the dark room and slowly placed your weight on the wooden floor, being careful not to wake Charlotte. You slipped out of your nightgown and into a simple light cotton dress, not even bothering to put on a corset or stockings. You tied a leather belt around your waist before reaching under your pillow to grab your Colt revolver, putting it in your holster. You might need it in case any threatening situation arised. You threw on your lightweight overcoat and left it unbuttoned before lacing up your boots and grabbing your wicker basket, you threw in your Wuthering heights copy and some apples for a light snack.

You carefully opened the door, taking one last look at Charlotte’s sleeping figure before closing it behind you. You exited the inn and glanced around outside, breathing in the cool morning air and relieved to see that no one was up and about yet. You walked a mile out in search of an isolated area with shady trees until you stumbled upon a meadow filled with bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes. Your eyes lit up at the sight of it and a smile appeared on your face. It was beautiful. The way the flowers spread across the field with the few scattered trees and the morning sun’s rays just barely peeking out over the horizon. It looked like a painting. You eyed the closest tree that stood by itself and made a little jog towards it, your free hair flowing behind you as you ran your fingers along the grass and the flowers. This moment right here reminded you of the very few fortunate days you had as a child when your mother would take you out on a picnic to the english countryside because your father was away on urgent matters. It was a chance to escape the cold stone walls of the castle while he was away. You missed running through the meadows while she chased you around, both of you giggling from delight, free from your father’s tyrannical presence.

When you met your destination, you put your basket down by the tree and took off your boots before plopping down on the grass, taking out your book and reading it as you held it above you. You layed there for a while, your hair splayed out behind you and the skirt of your dress hitched up to your knees, lost in your book, the soft grass, the sweet scent of the flowers, and the cool morning breeze. You’d occasionally stick your bare feet out above the grass, stretching out your legs and toes.

Half an hour of peacefulness had passed by until you heard the sound of hooves in the distance. Your senses became heightened as you sat up, whipping your head around to see a horse in the distance coming in your direction. The rider was hidden from view from where you were crouched down, making you nervous as you backed up against the tree, your hand gripping your colt in case this was some sort of attack. The horse came to a sudden stop before you and turned, allowing you to finally see the rider. It was the same gentleman from yesterday.

“You.” You narrowed your eyes at him while standing up with a balled fist. You were still gripping your pistol and had half a mind to not just hit him with it right there.

“Ma’am.” He tilted his hat at you, his face darkened by the shade his hat provided.

“You’ve damn near ran me over. You know that?”

Bloody plonker.

“Well you look fine to me.”

“And if you had gone a few inces closer I wouldn’t have been fine.” You huffed out, your breathing affected by the thrill of getting nearly trampled over or murdered by a bandit. You didn’t know which was worse.

The man let out a chuckle, shaking his head before eyeing your hand that still clutched the grip of your pistol. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

“And what? I’m supposed to magically believe you?” You scoffed.

“Well you’re welcome to shoot me if I do something to offend you.”

You stood there for a second, making yourself look as if you were contemplating the thought. “Does that include verbal offenses?”

He chuckled again at your remark, dismounting his horse and tying the reins up. “You’ve got quite the attitude on you, you know that? You come from a dishonest place or something?”

You watched him wearily, lowing your guard down. “Dishonest is one way to put it. More like a dodgy hell hole if you ask me.” You thought about all the times you had to fend for yourself against the worst scum of men and even women in the past, especially in the Middle Ages. Only difference was you wielded a sword then instead of a revolver. If there was one thing you had to thank your father for, it was for raising you like a son and teaching you the art of war and the sword. “What are the likes of you doing about here anyways?”

“Well, what’s a lady like you doin round these parts all by yourself at this time of day?” He looked at you.

It was then you had just remembered you weren’t wearing a corset which meant. Shite. Your Belisha Beacons were cage-free. You let in a sharp intake of air and quickly buttoned up your jacket before he’d notice, covering up your chest to add an extra layer to your cotton dress. You were silently praying the wind wouldn’t blow up your skirt and reveal your short drawers and your lack of petticoats and stockings or else you might as well shoot yourself from embarrassment. You almost cursed yourself for a lack of proper dressing and daring to go out like this. But, he just had to show up didn’t he.

“You didn’t answer my question.” You looked up at him, finally noticing his features and my goodness. You didn’t want to admit it but he nearly took your breath away. You found yourself staring at him. That golden blonde hair that looked soft to the touch, the tanned skin, that face, and my goodness those green eyes. You quickly changed your expression into a stern one as he looked at you. You hoped he didn’t catch you staring at him like some toad at a fly. Him being pretty means nothing.

“Neither did you.” He remarks.

“Well I believe I was the one to ask a question first. Now go on, explain yourself.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “You’re not following me are you?”

“No ma’am. Just doing my patrol. Now, what are you doing out here?”

“............reading. As if it’s any of your business.” You lifted your chin before turning away and sitting down with your back against the tree, adjusting your skirt to cover your legs.

“Out here by yourself?”

“Obviously.” You rolled your eyes.

You sat there and glanced up at him still standing there like some kind of meerkat. “Well? Are you just going to stand there and watch the grass grow or are you going to have a seat? It’s not like you’re going to leave me be anytime soon.”

“Is there anywhere you specifically want me to sit, princess?”

You raised a brow at the nickname, wanting to smack that smug look right off his mug.“Whichever pleases you.” You wave your hand about before muttering to yourself. “Bloody fucking hell.”

The man smirked before taking his hat off, sitting down beside you and leaning against the big tree as well. You side glanced at him before scooting away just an inch. He chuckled at your little movement, shaking his head as he rested his arm on his bent knee, fiddling with a strand of grass in his hand.

There was a bit of silence between you two. Your eyes roamed everywhere else but him while his would occasionally glance in your direction. This situation was awkward for you.

“What’s your name soldier?” You asked him as you pulled your basket closer to you and pulled out your gloves, putting them on for precaution. You could feel him watching you with curiosity as you did so.

“Jasper Whitlock ma’am.” He bowed his head to you.

“How long have you been a major?”

“You know my rank?” He quirked his brow at you.

“Well you are wearing a uniform with insignia aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Just making sure.”

Jasper sat there with his brows furrowed as he studied your face before popping a question. “You seem to know a lot. You’re always reading. You some kind of genius?”

“Well.” You scoffed. “I wouldn’t quite call myself a genius. Though I have met many in the past. Very interesting individuals I must say. What on earth bothered you to ask a question such as that?”

“I don’t know.” He stared at you. “Your eyes.”

You looked at him gobsmacked before letting out a confused laugh. “My eyes?”

“Well.” Jasper tried to explain himself, feeling embarrassed while straightening up a bit. “When I was younger my ma used to tell me how you could read people’s eyes. How some held wisdom behind them.”

You nodded your head with approval, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Your mother sounds like a wise woman. Though, it completely baffles me that you a ninny like you would be her son.”

“Ninny?” He cocked his head back from the word. “Is that some kind of insult?”

“I’ll let you figure that out on your own.” You gave a short smile before reaching into your basket to grab an apple, holding it out for him.

Jasper studied the apple in your hand before looking up at your blank expression, his brow raised playfully in suspicion. “That’s not poisoned is it?”

“.............maybe.”

“Well that’s not a very encouraging answer.”

“If I wanted you dead you’d already be.”

“Well my apologies Lady Macbeth. I guess I’ll take your word for it. If anything happens-“

“Don’t worry. No one will know.”

“Okay. Here goes.” Jasper chuckled at your strange sense of humor before taking the apple from your gloved hands.

His fingers lingered there on your palm for a brief moment. And even though you were wearing your gloves, you couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down your spine. A part of you wondered what it would feel like if you weren’t wearing your gloves, just your bare hand against his. You stared into his eyes and a blush started to creep on your cheeks before you pulled your hand hastily away, turning your head away from him. You were in complete shambles.

“I’m sorry.” Jasper gave you a pained look as you had your back to him. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No. You’re quite alright.” You composed yourself before pulling out your pocket watch from your coat pocket, glancing at the time. “Shite. In fact, it’s my fault. I should get going. I have a performance later and I do not want to be wasting your time and mine.”

“Wasting my time?” Jasper sat up once he saw you hurriedly packing your things. “Ma’am, I assure you, you weren’t wasting my time. I enjoyed your company.”

“Well you shouldn’t.” You stood up with your basket as Jasper followed you right after. “I’m sure you have far more important matters to attend to, Major. Good day.”

You turned to walk away only to have Jasper at your heel, making you close your eyes in frustration.

“Wait! At least let me take you safely back to town.”

“No thank you. I managed to get here on my own and I am more than possitive I can make my way back.” You gave him a polite smile before going your way, not even bothering to look back.

Jasper stood there by the tree next to his horse, his heartstrings being pulled at as he watched you disappear from sight. He didn’t know why you reacted in such a harsh way, especially when you seemed to have eased up a bit around him. But he wanted to understand, more than anything.

You marched on back to the inn, wiping away at the lone tear that dare to fall from the corner of your eye. You were upset, filled with distress and fueled with anger for yourself. You had promised yourself not to give in to such feelings and yet here you were. Conversing with a dashing gentleman whom you have found to be tolerable and risking everything being at a close proximity with him. You knew more than anyone the dangers of becoming close with a mortal. You knew more than anyone, what would happen if you were to merely touch a person with your bare hand. You knew more than anyone, that the most simple form of affection, a touch of a hand, a caress on the cheek, a kiss, could never be possible for you.

Tag List: @smileygirl08 @peachyevergreen @Lustdere @moonlights27 @krazykatkay456 @buckysjuicyplums @oi-itsemily @ahahanofanks @iberandom @bittergomez @holyhumorliteraturelight @bells3333 @ashdab2611 @toomanybandstocare @lilithknight1111 @cricketlicket @5sosfanforever2001 @justine-en @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @shakespeareanbooty @pancake-pages @elisemurphy06 @ineffabledears @bella-stenbakken @seraphpheonix @trickylittlewitch @twilightrox @hobodolly @big-galaxy-chaos @mega-ultra-so-awesome-it-hurts @mikariell95 @decaffeinated--fangirl @lovestomanyfandoms @fairyunhappy @chaoticsimptown @hanster1998 @coricosplays @secretpickleprofessordean @itsbqueenthings @theweasleythatgotintoslytherin @corpseism @yourlocalelf @eternallysleepyteen @thecrazytealady @marvel-kpop-twilight @leeleehale

[hiccanna-tidbits]

okay, okay but hear me out!

Hiccanna, Moanida and Jackunzel (and maybe someone else if u want) going on a holiday trip together (it could be sea or lake or just swimming pool).

And that three couples playing "chicken fight game"~ When u have to sit on partner shoulder or ridding piggy-back and knock down or separate the other couple!

sksksks just imagine the fun and the chaos!! hahaha

Okay SO I recently watched Palm Springs so I’m just imagining The Gang going to like…a fancy pool resort in like Arizona??? SURE LET’S GO WITH THAT

I’m imagining the only resort the gang could afford to stay at is someplace out in the middle of Arizona or something

It takes a LOT of persuading to get Jack to go, because he haaaaates deserts. Rapunzel basically has to beg. Moana finally managed to bribe him with really good homemade ice slushies. (She’s used to making smoothies for Merida, so how hard can slushies be??? Just throw in some ice!)

Rapunzel offers to help Moana with the slushies, since she gave Jack SO many puppy dog eyes to get him to come. Since they’ve got two people working on them, they’re REALLY good slushies. Jack approves.

Anna also tries to convince Elsa to go, but the perpetually-single Elsa is just like “Um, deserts? Sunburns? Being indefinitely stuck with gross couples doing gross couple stuff?!? Yeah no thank you”

Hiccup tries to wake everyone up at like 6 am to go hiking because "that's when the desert iguanas are out guys!!! C'mon, we have to go!!!" Anna is only persuaded to go after Hiccup makes her coffee--she really wants to make her bf happy, but also mornings can suck her dick. Rapunzel is more than happy to go, because she loves mornings anyways!!! And oh my god, IGUANAS!!! Jack, Merida, and Moana are like "oh FUCK no" and put the pillow back over their head, shoo Hiccup away, and go back to sleep.

On their hike, Hiccup just goes "!!!!!!!" about every reptile he sees. Snake, lizard, horny toad, literally anything with scales will send the boy into an excited frenzy. Rapunzel has similar reactions. Anna could not love both of them more.

At one point, they stumble across a gila monster sunbathing, and Rapunzel is overtaken with the unwavering desire to adopt him. She gets Hiccup on board, and he tries to lure the lizard over with a dusty piece of a snake carcass he found (Anna tried to tell him he really shouldn't touch that, but he was not to be swayed and Anna ended up figuring he could just wash his hands really well when they got back). Anna finds herself in the unusual position of having to be the Voice of Reason, having to be like “hey uh I think this might be illegal and stuff??? Also aren't they poisonous???”

(I know what you're thinking. Bold of you to assume Anna knows the difference between poisonous and venomous.)

Rapunzel literally CANNOT stop gushing to Jack about all the wildlife she saw when she gets back! Jackrabbits! Kangaroo rats! Roadrunners! Peccaries! Centipedes! Jack has only mild to moderate interest in desert ecology, but loves hearing his gf gush so he listens attentively anyways. 

Anna and Rapunzel definitely hit up the gift shops in the resort town at some point, and go ABSOLUTELY BATSHIT HOGWILD buying gifts for everyone. They probably max out their credit cards. It's embarrassing, really. But Anna gets Hiccup an absolute shitton of those little wall lizard things and he nearly cries tears of joy when he sees them, so it's all worth it, really.

Moana will not leave the pool like. The entire time. The girl is just obsessed with being in the water, honestly. She gets restless, though, and can't just stand in the pool and vibe--she needs to constantly be moving and swimming around or she'll explode. Merida is more than happy to indulge her by hanging out in the poor with her, but Merida is also constantly challenging her to swim races--a very dumb idea, considering Moana is on the high school swim team and water polo team. Merida, naturally, is an extremely sore loser and is not above excessive pouting, splashing, yelling in angry Scottish, and dunking her girlfriend in revenge. It's at least entertaining for all of their friends to watch.

Jack keeps fucking taking huge buckets of ice from the ice machine and dumping them in the pool. At first he only does this because he keeps griping about the pool not being cold enough (this boy will accept nothing less than sitting in the goddamn arctic ocean), but after her figures out that it pisses off his friends, he takes to pouring said ice directly over their heads. Merida has threatened to murder him several times for this.

Hiccup and Anna's main pool activity is just lazing around on their pool floaties (Anna has a duck one, Hicccup has a dragon one because obviously), sipping cocktails, and just generally vibing. Through some ungodly mixture of pure charisma and a fake ID that Rapunzel helped photoshop, Jack manages to talk his way into getting the whole group access to alcohol. Hiccup is a sangria or Moscow Mule kinda guy while Anna usually gets a Pina Colada or a Sex on the Beach (she's aspec, so she literally will not stop joking about the irony of this). Merida makes a game out of attempting to tip over their floaties and dunk them. Jack, chaos gremlin that he is, puts aside his usual rivalry with Merida to join in. They have a surprisingly strong dunking alliance.

Hiccup and Anna try to form a syndicate of their own, and try to lounge on the same floatie so that they can protect each other while fighting off Jack and Merida together. Unfortunately neither of their floaties were made to hold 2 peoples' weight, so the one they're on ends up tipping over, spilling their cocktails everywhere and dunking them anyways. Jack and Merida consider this a Win By Default.

Moana of course loops everyone into playing water polo at some point. Unfortunately some idiot decided it would be a good idea to let Merida of all people pick the teams, which means of course that they are incredibly rigged. It's Moana, Merida and Anna vs. Jack, Rapunzel, and Hiccup, so basically The Jocks vs. The Nerds (although admittedly Anna is more of a softcore jock--she's nowhere near on Moana or Merida's level, but she's still more naturally athletic than Hiccup, Rapunzel, or Jack). Naturally, Jock Team absolutely whoops Nerd Team's ass. Jack gets salty and demands a rematch. ...Jock Team kicks Nerd Team's ass again.

Throughout all of this, no one thinks to just...rearrange the teams a little. Merida was counting on this. All according to plan.

In the titular chicken game (yes, I remembered, don't worry!), it's Merida on Moana's shoulders (Moana swims and has a lot of upper body strength, what can I say?), Hiccup on Anna's shoulders (I mean...Hiccup's a twig, and Anna HAS to have a fair amount of upper body strength from throwing busts around and punching men off boats and such), and Punz on Jack's shoulders (Jack's pretty lithe and good at keeping his balance while jumping around, so he's their best candidate for not just falling over).

Jack and Rapunzel actually manage to stay in the game longer than anyone expects--their primary strategy is “be good at dodging and staying out of the way while Merida and Hiccup duke it out.” And it works! As limber as Hiccup is, Anna's not nearly as coordinated as Jack and is no match for Moana's sturdy footing. Also, neither Anna nor Hiccup are prepared for how goddamn ruthless and determined to win Merida is. Even though they really, really should have been. I mean...have you met Merida???

When it comes down to Merida-Moana and Rapunzel-Jack, Mer feels a little bad for having to go up against Pure Sweet Punzie. Unfortunately, Rapunzel turns out to be a very hardcore fighter when she puts her mind to it, and Merida is much more evenly matched than she initially thought and realizes she must use her Full Power. It definitely helps her snap out of Going Soft when Jack starts brutally roasting Merida in particular (as per usual). Merida gets a rage-fueled Second Wave, and finally manages to knock Rapunzel over in one foul swoop. Merida and Moana are victorious!

Moana and Merida basically always shower together after a day at the pool. They claim it's because they both know how to handle curly hair in chlorine, and just like to wash each other's hair, but the rest of the gang is pretty sure that's not all that's going on in there.

One day, Anna hits up the resort town alone to buy some kind of secret gifts for her friends with what little money she has left (this girl seriously has no chill when it comes to buying presents).  She goes past this huge, fancy ice cream shop and she's like “!!!! OMG!!! I'm gonna surprise all my buddies with pints of their faves!!!” She just gets super hyped and buys everyone ice cream, getting so caught up in the thrill of it that she forgets that she'll have to like. Drive all this back all the way back to the resort in the rental car. In like. You know. 110+ degree weather.

By the time she gets back to the resort, the ice cream is, of course, goop. Poor Anna, feeling incredibly dumb and like an utter failure of a friend, just kind of bursts into tears. Like damn. This is too much. She was gonna make all her pals so happy, and all for naught! Jack just kinda shrugs and throws all the melted ice cream cartons in the freezer anyways. Once they're (partially) re-frozen, Rapunzel and Moana make slushies with them. They actually come out pretty decent. Anna is substantially cheered up.

Moana prepares some tropical fruit platters for everyone to snack on. Rapunzel tries to “improve” them by adding chocolate sauce and nutella to half of them. Sometimes it works (I mean...bananas and strawberries with chocolate and/or nutella is pretty solid). Other times it just tastes...very weird. Merida gest frustrated and yells at Rapunzel for “ruining all of her girlfriend's good mangoes.”

Jack just thinks this whole thing is so funny, and decides to swap the chocolate sauce with barbecue sauce to cause further chaos. Absolute mayhem ensures. Everyone has a bad time. Except for Anna, who apparently is just a freak who enjoys eating pineapple slices dipped in barbecue sauce.

At some point, Merida gets really drunk on appletinis or some shit and signs the entire group up for a local archery competition. Much to everyone's chagrin, it's no refunds. Naturally, basically everyone sans Merida does terrible. Rapunzel and Hiccup very nearly shoot themselves, while Jack and Anna come very close to  accidentally shooting a group of referees (although Jack might have done this on purpose). Moana gets the farthest, if only because Merida's taught her how to shoot a bow at some point. Merida actually ends up winning--although unfortunately, the prize is $20 and a very cheap plastic trophy (which Merida STILL manages to find a way to break before the trip is even over).

The rest of the group is much more amicable to the concept of going on hikes when said hikes are in the evening. Hiccup and Rapunzel are still excitedly chattering about the local ecosystems the entire time, and Jack and Anna are just kind of looking at their nerdy SOs like “<3 <3 <3″ Moana and Merida, meanwhile, are just kinda vibing in the back, passively listening in and watching the desert sunset.

Rapunzel manages to capture Mer and Mo's interest and gets them to participate more with geology, of all things. Merida just thinks rocks are cool (especially when they can be thrown at people bothering her!), while Moana likes learning about the physical history of places--how water can carve out landscapes, and all that. Hiccup and Jack just kind of exchange a look like “I had no idea that they were into rocks, but...the more you know, I guess???”

Jack makes fun of every reptile they see, mainly to piss Hiccup off. Unfortunately it has the opposite effect, and Hiccup can't help but be entertained--mainly because Jack's insults are so weirdly specific and over-the-top that they loop around to being hilarious. Seriously, he keeps saying shit like “Those are the lamest scales I've ever seen. Absolutely drab, and not nearly shiny enough to prove that nature is beautiful. 0/10.” and “Ohhhh, this fucking rattlesnake think's he's so scary, with his dumb percussion instrument tail!!! I could be more intimidating with a mean look and a large pair of maracas!”

At some point, a bunch of tourists riding donkeys pass them. Anna, Rapunzel, and Merida just absolutely lose their shit fangirling over how cute the donkeys are, thus exposing all three of them as the unabashed Horse Girls they are. Hiccup, Jack, and Moana find this extremely amusing, and definitely aren't above teasing their girlfriends about it. Hiccup asks if next time they take a couples' vacation, the Horse Gang (as Moana insists on nicknaming them) would like to go to a ranch instead.

Anna gets like. Obsessed with palm trees. Like they're just so pretty and exotic and tropical!!! OMG!!! And they definitely don't have them wherever the gang is from in this AU. (Also if griping about Elsa not having "tropical powers" is anything to go by, she DOES canonically like the tropics!) She has to take a picture of like...every palm tree on her phone. And considering the gang is in Arizona, that means Anna is stopping to take a picture like...every 2 minutes. Rapunzel catches onto the fact that Anna likes them, and paints her a picture with some when Punz has the time. Anna definitely cries when she sees it. Hiccup can't do nearly that good, but he does buy her some little plastic figurine ones in a gift shop that she can put in her room. Anna also cries about this. She just cries whenever any of her friends indulge her random fixation on palm trees. Surely she doesn't deserve such niceties!!!

Rapunzel is just. In love with the desert landscape tbh. Like the huge funky cacti!!! The shrubs!!! The desert wildflowers!!! The mesas!!! All of it!!! So of course she needs to pull out her easel and paint it. Jack walks by one day and sees her working on it and, partly just to troll her, he's like “put some snow in it!” As he walks away, Rapunzel just stops like “wait...that'd actually be such a great idea for a surrealist-type fantasy piece!!!” After she finishes the main landscape, she adds an overcoat of little puffs of snow on top of everything, and has some clumps falling off of the cacti. When she shows Jack, he just about cries tears of joy, but frantically tries to hide it. She gives the painting to him as a present at the end of the trip. He hangs that shit front-in-center in his room and cherishes it forever and ever.

At some point, Jack gets the ingenious idea that he's going to prank Merida by catching a tarantula and leaving it in her room. It's one of the harmless ones--Jack fact-checks this by offhandedly asking Hiccup and framing it as a casual interest in local etymology. Still, Merida screams far louder than is at all dignified, and also probably loud enough to wake a neighboring country. Rapunzel later has to physically hold Merida back to keep her from absolutely beating Jack into a pulp. Rapunzel also manages to get the World's Largest Sheet of Cardboard and the World's Largest Cup and somehow manages to get the damn thing back outside.

[villainousshakespeare]

Learning a Lesson Chapter 9

iLearning a Lesson Chapter 8

Part 1 Here, Part 2 Here, Part 3 Here, Part 4 Here, Part 5 Here, Part 6 Here, Part 7 Here, Part 8 Here

Young Actor Tom Hiddleston/OFC

Rated E -Smut, Angst, Complicated Relationship - Teacher/Actor Posing as Student, Feels, Flirting, Fluff, Oral Sex, Sex, Shower Sex, Threats, Breakups, Angst…

ANGST IN THIS CHAPTER! (but don’t worry… I’m a hopeless romantic)

Summary: It’s your first day as a teacher and things are going well. That is, until a tall, gorgeous boy with blond curls and dramatic ways saunters into your last class. When he ignores all the swooning girls to flirt outrageously with you, it is secretly thrilling. Even more so is when he tries to steal a kiss after class ends. How long will you be able to keep your defenses up?

Up and Coming actor Tom is under cover in high school for  research for a movie, but the pretty drama teacher is making the long assignment so much more enjoyable

@arch-venus25​, @caffiend-queen​ @ciaodarknessmyheart​ @frostbitten-written​ @just-the-hiddles​ @kellatron55​ @myoxisbroken​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @poetic-fiasco​ @shiningloki​ @shae-annelore​ @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy​ @hiddlesholic​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @wolfsmom1​ @tom-hlover​ @toozmanykids​ @delightfulheartdream​ @whyispistashanuttaken​ @hopelessromanticspoonie​; @loki-yoursaviourishere​ @is-it-madness​

The Monday morning walk to school was the longest of Emily's life. With every step she took she was tempted to turn around and run the other way, hiding under her blankets and weeping rather than going on. Only a deep seated stubborn streak kept her from giving in to her fears and doing just that.

She needn't have worried. Tom was true to his word. There was no sign of him to be found in school. No infectious laugh ringing through the hallway, no tousled halo of blond hair floating above the shorter students amidst a throng of admirers, and no ice blue eyes seeking hers for a secret wink or speaking glance.

Emily told herself it was for the best. She hoped she would eventually believe it.

The other god-send was that Jim Howard seemed to have called in sick. A substitute was in his classroom when she got there, and never had she been so glad to see the old woman than she was that day. She assumed that it was his pride that kept him from walking into the building with a black eye and a swollen jaw, and took evil delight in the fact that Tom had so thoroughly trounced him.

Tom. There he was again. She could not go five minutes without calling him to mind. It was going to be a long day. Hell, it was going to be a long forever as far as she knew. How long would it take to get over the golden boy who had so completely won her heart?

Half a day was how long it took for the news of his exit to hit the school grapevine. Emily began hearing his name whispered during her fourth period class. By the time that class ended and she made her way to the staff lounge it was all anyone was talking about. Ada, Janis, and Mike were gossiping about it when she came in, a pathetic lunch of coffee and a banana in her hand.

"Well, anyone with eyes could have seen that that boy should be a movie star," Janis was opining. "It doesn't surprise me one bit."

"Oh, come on Janis," Mike laughed, skepticism showing, "he was handsome, sure, but there's no way you saw this coming!"

"I'm not saying that," Janis sniffed. "Obviously I didn't know he was an actor. But if anyone in this school was destined for greatness it was Martinsson."

"Hiddleston," Mike corrected her. "Apparently that's his real name. You're awfully quiet, Emily. You were close with the boy, weren't you? Tutoring him after hours and all?"

"Not that close," she said with a half shrug. "He claimed to want help with an audition monologue, but that was obviously for show. We never actually worked on it. Just class."

The words were true enough as far they went, even if the meaning behind them was an all out lie.

"Still, he clearly preferred you," Ada said, giving her a probing look. "I heard all sorts of chatter about how he always flirted with you, volunteering to read romantic scenes with you. I was a little jealous, to tell the truth. I mean, and I can say it now that I know he's a genuine adult - what I wouldn't have given for a chance to sculpt a nude of that boy!"

"No wonder Howard hated him so much," Mike laughed good naturedly. "It seems it's not just the high school girls who had a thing for him."

Emily did her best to tune them out after that, and took to eating in her classroom. The days blended into each other, with no end of the day secret to make them stand out as special.

The kids in her drama class were all excited of course. The thought that they had read scenes with an honest to goodness actor, one who was going to be starring in a movie, made them practically giddy. Kate began recirculating the lie that the two of them had been involved, and no one dared to correct her. Emily was angry on his behalf, offended that anyone would believe he would fool around with a student, until she realized the implications of that thought.

It was that guilt that was the worst. Well, along with the loneliness. Even if he had been an adult, she hadn't known that. She had thought him no different than Kate or Zack or Jamie, and she had slept with him anyway. She deserved all the pain she was feeling. Deserved more than that; to loose her job and never be hired again, even. More and more she slipped into a depression.

It was nine days after she had thrown him out of her apartment and her life that the first letter arrived. She grabbed her mail from the small slot inside the door and rifled through it on the way up the stairs as she always did, expecting nothing more than bills and solicitations. When she turned over an envelope addressed in an instantly recognizable hand, she felt as though she had been punched in the gut. Hands shaking, she opened the seal, afraid that if she didn't do it at once she would never find the courage, and unfolded a letter.

"My Darling Emily," it began in Tom's loopy mess of long hand, "I know I have no right to write to you, having broken your trust in the most caddish way possible. I only hope that you will allow me the opportunity to once more take advantage of your goodness of heart and kindness of disposition, that I may try to explain why I orchestrated such a hurtful charade.

"As you are patently aware now, I am an actor of both stage and screen. I take my profession very seriously, perhaps more so than it deserves, though I like to believe that you among all women will understand why. If I can peel away the layers of a character enough to expose the beating heart within, allowing my audience to sees even a piece of the truth of humanity in my portrayal, then I truly believe that I am contributing something to this shared experience we all are living. Pretentious as that sounds, it is my goal every time I assume a role, be it Iago or a soldier, or even Mr. Toad.

"When I was cast as a student from the States, I knew I had my work cut out for me. I was educated, I blush to say my love, in the best schools in England: Eton, Cambridge, and RADA. My good fortune has been quite excessive, I know, though no teacher I encountered in all of my tutelage could hold a candle to you, my darling. In any case, I was woefully unprepared to know the struggle such a young man was going through. My director came up with the idea to have me pose in a small town school, and I admit I leapt at the chance.

"Never in a million years would I have guessed that I would meet the woman of my dreams in such a situation.

"I confess that in the beginning I flirted with you to amuse myself. You are quite breathtakingly beautiful, my sweet, and I was bored beyond belief. As the days went on, however, I began to uncover the woman underneath the starched blouses and pencil skirts. A woman with a mind that soared and a soul that sung. One who shared my passion for stage poetry, and did not back down from a challenge.

"In short, my darling Emily, I fell in love with you.

"I should have told you the moment our relation crossed over the line. Alas my love, I fear that it is a coward who worships you. I was afraid that if you learned the truth you would be angry, and I wanted to collect as many precious moments with you as I could before your warm eyes turned cold. My sin is great, I know. I do not deserve to be forgiven. Nonetheless, I place my heart at your feet in hope that you will take it up, take pity on me, and not stomp it beneath your shoe.

"The film I am working on seized the opportunity afforded by my early matriculation to begin shooting. I am relocated to New York City to start principal photography. I know it is a mere two hours from you, and yet it feels the length of the world. Knowing I will not see you each day, hold you at night, is a weight on my soul that I know I have only myself to blame for.

"I ask nothing of you, my dearest Emily, but that you allow me to write to you. I do not expect you to write back, although I live in hope that one day you will. The distance keeps us apart, but perhaps that need not be all bad. Perhaps it can give you time to heal and to trust me once more. Let me write to you, to tell you about myself - my real self - and try to win your friendship back if nothing else. It has been the most important of my life.

"I do not flatter myself that I will ever hold you again, kiss your soft lips, feel you beneath me as you gasp in passion. I have too great a mark against me to hope for such grace. I would die to have it, but will not impose it on you. Just let me try to heal the hurt I have done, and I will be content.

"If you cannot find it within you to accept my offer of friendship in the form of epistles, simply write me with one word. 'Stop' and I will cease. You are in control, my heart. I will bow to your wishes.

"Please take good care of yourself, my Emily. I wish I could be their to tend to you myself. Be warry of the dread maths teacher. I know it is no longer my place, but I would ask you to not be alone around him.

"Enough of that. I will end for now. Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.

"My heart is yours.

All my love,

Tom."

Emily read the letter through, barley able to make out the words through the tears welling in her eyes. When she had finished, she collapsed onto the bed and read it through again, openly weeping this time. All of the pain and guilt she had been holding in came flooding out. In the end, she had to put the letter aside so that the deluge of her tears didn't permanently mar the ink composing the lines. By then she knew it by heart, but she still loved to see his strong hand scrawled out over the page.

She did not for a moment consider writing him to stop. Perhaps she should have. There was no future she could see for the two of them. Her trust had been shattered, along with her mental image of herself, by the situation. On top of that, he was away, filming a movie in the big city that she rarely went to. When this movie was ended, who knew where he would be? Jetting off to exotic countries? Treading the boards in London? His life was exciting and adventurous, and she was a little mouse of a school teacher from a small town. How could they hope to make a relationship work, even without their drama?

The letters came far more frequently than she had expected. While it was not every day, Tom was clearly grasping every spare moment he had to pour out his heart to her. He told her all about the filming process. She felt as though she knew his costars, so vividly did he depict them. Against her will, Emily would find herself laughing at ridiculous anecdotes, or groaning in commiseration at delays in the shooting.

In the midst of all of these tales of misadventures and productivity, Tom made clear to he still hoped to win Emily back. He never missed an opportunity to praise her, calling her darling, his sweet, his dear, his love. He mentioned how he had suggested that one of the teachers should be young, smart, and sexy as an homage to her, though no one could possibly do her justice. He let slip that he had been making his costars groan with his continual referencing her, to the point where they teased him any time her name arose.

At the end of each letter he dropped all pretense, stating plainly that he loved her and would do anything to win her back. He insisted that he would wait, that the decision was entirely hers, but that he lived in hope that one day she would write him back, telling him she forgave him. Until that day, he would soldier on and try to deserve her.

Several times Emily found herself sitting down, trying to pen a reply to him. She wanted, desperately wanted, to do so. But each time, the fear would come crashing down and she would end up tearing the letter to shreds.

About two months after the letters started, there was a longer than usual gap between arrivals. Emily began to think that he had given up on her, and a panic she had never felt gripped her. She had not realized the extent to which she had been living for his words.

When an envelope finally arrived, it was in an international envelope, and the return address was London, England. That was it, then. He was out of the country. All of the stories of his homecoming, complete with welcoming family, were a dagger to her. He still professed his love, but now an actual ocean separated them along with the sea of emotion.

Their were two more letters, spread over a month and a half, and then nothing for three weeks. Depression returned. She had all but given up when a card shaped envelope, gilded on the edges, arrived in her box.

***

"Alright, out with it!"

Emily looked up from the pile of papers she was grading to see Ada standing in her classroom door, arms crossed over her paint splattered apron and a determined look on her face.

"Out with what?" Emily asked, confusion genuine.

"It's been four months, Emily," the older woman said, shutting the door behind her as she walked in and sat at one of the student desks. The same desk, Emily couldn't help but note, that had once been Tom's.

"Sorry?"

"Four months that you have been moping around! Barely showing your face in the teacher's lounge, looking like someone stole your dog and kicked your kitten. This, from the girl who was such a spark of joy when she was hired that she even ignited passion for teaching in an old war horse like me!"

"I'm sorry," Emily mumbled.

"Don't be sorry, girl! Tell me what's wrong!"

"It's nothing."

"Emily, do you think I'm blind?" Ada asked with a sigh.

"No..."

"Or that I'm stupid?"

"Of course not!"

"Good," Ada snorted. "As I am neither. Four months ago, a certain long-legged boy with more looks than are good for anyone swaggered out of this school, and you have been a ghost ever since. It's not hard to put the pieces together."

Emily gaped at her, all color draining from her face. If Ada knew, or strongly suspected, was it then general knowledge? Was her shame a joke amongst the faculty, or a cause of scorn?

"Don't worry, hun," Ada said, as though reading her mind. "Most of the people around here are blind and stupid. No one else has any idea. Well, maybe Jim, but that's a whole other can of worms that I am not too keen on digging around in. So, you fell for the boy, huh?"

"You must despise me," Emily said, voice hardly above a whisper.

"So you're failing is that you're deaf," Ada shook her head. "How many times did you hear me rhapsodize about him? Hell, I was undressing him with my eyes every damn day!"

"But you never took it farther than that."

"No, I didn't. But then I am decades older than either one of you and was not given the opportunity. Who knows what I might have done if he had batted those long golden lashes at me and flashed a dimple."

"You wouldn't have slept with a student," Emily said doggedly.

"Is that what this is? That you feel guilty? Tell me something, Emily: would you ever even consider anything inappropriate with say... Jack Simmons, or Zach Lewis, or Dan Fielding? Would it even occur to you?"

"No," Emily said at once, repulsed by the very idea.

"Of course not. Because they are children. The Simmons boy is a hulking child, true, but even though he is big, he is still an adolescent. You can easily tell in a moment he is not an adult. Now, compare that to Tom. He has a baby face, and is all gangly, but there was something about him that flatly identified him as a man. You knew that, instinctively. That is why you let things play out the way you did."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I know you," Ada said simply. "You are a good person, with a moral compass. Was it a stupid thing to do? Of course! It could have ended horribly for you, and thank god it didn't! But don't beat yourself up for listening to your intuition when it turned out to be right! Even if the boy did end up being a snake."

"What if he wasn't?" Emily asked carefully.

"I just assumed... he left, and you didn't seem happy about it... Emily, what did happen?"

Emily looked at her friend, chewing on her lip as she decided what to say. Ada already knew the worst; what harm could it do to let her in on the rest? In a rush it all came out. The clandestine affair, the trouble with Mr. Howard, seeing Tom on Nicholas Nickleby, their disastrous fallout, all of it. Ada sat there rapt as Emily spilled the whole sordid story.

"He really punched Jim?" Ada asked when she had finished, a huge grin spread over her face.

"Twice," Emily confirmed, answering smile on her own mouth. "Hard. Knocked him flat onto the ground."

"Oh, would I have loved to have seen that."

"I could have lived without it, honestly."

"Oh, hun, I don't know what to tell you," Ada shook her head. "I don't even know whether to feel jealous of you sorry for you. Both, I suppose. Ah, to be young again."

"He's been writing me letters," Emily confessed, face reddening. "Ever since he left."

"What does he say?" Ada's eyes were huge.

"Different things. How his day is going. About the filming. That he loves me and wants to be with me."

"Well what the hell are you doing here then?" Ada stood from the desk to stare at her.

"Ada..."

"Girl, if that young man wanted me, you can bet that nothing would keep me away!"

"He's in London," she muttered.

"Did something happen to all the airplanes?"

"No... In fact..."

"In fact what, Emily? Spill it? Give a woman something to live vicariously through!"

With a sigh, Emily dug through her bag and pulled out the card she had received the day before. It was an invitation to a movie premiere in New York City. Folded along with that was a train ticket, prepaid first class, and a small note:

    "I would not wish Any companion in the world but you,      Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of.

     Tom (with all thanks to Miranda in The Tempest)"

"Well," Ada smiled at her, "when shall we go shopping? You, my dear, are going to need a dress!"