of old silverware

The Glorious 25th of May

The scent rolled over him.

He looked up.

Overhead, a lilac tree was in bloom.

He stared.

Damn! Damn! Damn! Every year he forgot. Well, no. He never forgot. He just put the memories away, like old silverware that you didn’t want to tarnish. And every year they came back, sharp and sparkling, and stabbed him in the heart.

– on the Glorious 25th of May | Terry Pratchett, Night Watch

Damn! Damn! Damn! Every year he forgot. Well, no. He never forgot. He just put the memories away, like old silverware that you didn’t want to tarnish. And every year they came back, sharp and sparkling, and stabbed him in the heart. And today, of all days …

Night Watch, Terry Pratchett

It’s almost the Glorious 25th

anonymous asked:

Bellarke Fic were Bellamy finds out when Clarke’s birthday is and makes her her a ring or bracelet or picks her a flower or something?? :) - cause she should still celebrate her birthday even if it’s the apocalypse :) THANKYOU


Wow, k, so I saved this ask in my drafts and now it won’t post which is super cute. Sorry, anon. Anyway, I wrote this fairly quickly? It was just fun to write lmao. ALSO ty @bcnightsquad​ for inspiring me with the drinking game vignette you sent <3

Fandom: The 100
Pairing: Bellarke
Rating: G
Words: 1,381


Bellamy shouldn’t have expected to beat Clarke at pong. He saw her obliterate everyone at every alcohol fueled game during their time at the Dropship, but for some reason he still agreed to play against her tonight. He’s not bad, and she’s had to down a few of her own cups thanks to him, but Clarke has hardly missed a shot. Before he knows it, Bellamy is chugging his last cup in defeat.

“You know,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “seeing as I’m a member of the guard, the legal drinking age is twenty one, and you’re only seventeen, I could arrest you right now if I wanted to.”

With a roll of her eyes, Clarke aims the browned, bent ping pong ball they used to play at Bellamy’s head. “First of all, age restrictions stopped being enforced the day one hundred kids were sent to Earth without adult supervision,” Clarke reminds him. It’s not a written rule but Bellamy supposes it’s true. Age is obsolete when all that matters is survival. “Second,” Clarke continues, “I’m eighteen.”

“Still not of age,” counters Bellamy. He tosses the ping pong ball back to her.

“Must we revisit my first point?”

Clarke’s age has never been something Bellamy focused on. She’s wiser than the oldest Arkadian and more mature than most adults. If her youthful features didn’t play a factor in Bellamy’s perception of her, he would assume she’s the most ancient person on the planet. It’s easy to forget that in reality, the only reason Clarke is on Earth at all is because she was just a kid.

And now she’s not.

Age isn’t important on the ground, birthdays even less so, but people are important. Clarke is important. Especially to Bellamy.

How could he have possibly missed her birthday?

“Since when have you been eighteen?” Bellamy asks.

Clarke shrugs, walking over to the other end of the table to stand with him. “Since Mount Weather, I think. Could have been before that. The council forgot to supply us with calendars.”


“Not that Priamfaya would spare me if I were still seventeen.”

“You’re literally turning a conversation about your birthday into a discussion about the end of the world.”

“My birthday was months ago, Bellamy.” Any humor Clarke wears slips from her face as she steps into his space. She stares him dead in the eyes when she says “the apocalypse is now.”

Trying for comfort, Bellamy slides his knuckles along the path between her elbow and shoulder. “You really know how to lighten the mood, Princess.”

Frowning, Clarke conks her head against his shoulder and rests it there. Into his sleeve she mumbles a halfhearted “shut up.”

Keep reading

The List

When Killian comes across a list that Emma made when she was a teenager things get awkward but then soon take a sexy turn!

Read more of my work on ao3 and FF!

Sorry that it took me so long to write this! I’ve had the craziest past two weeks. I struggle with chronic pain and it’s been on bitch of a week so focusing enough to write has been a struggle. I hope to have another story or update done this week! Let me know if you want me to continue with this story. I think it could be kind of fun to write another chapter! There sure is a lot of possibilities! This idea just kind of came to me. And I mean we all have a list… No? Just me? Okay… heheheh I hope you enjoy!

Chapter two!

Rated M

“I think this is the last of it. Is this really all you own?” Killian questioned with a rather large box in hand, kicking the door shut with his foot before swaggering back to Emma. He set it down on the dining room table amongst the other boxes while she smiled endearingly up at him from the floor where she was sorting some old childhood photos and knick knacks.

“Yup, this is it. Seven boxes is the rest of my life. It’s mostly clothes anyways,” The blonde explained, ripping the tape off another package. Emma had just gotten the rest of her belongings out of storage from when she lived in New York from the missing year. She had meant to do it a lot sooner, but between her family, being sheriff again, and the newest threat the Snow Queen, getting her old sweaters and silverware were the least of her worries. She thought she would have to drive back into the city to get her possessions but she was able to get her old neighbor to mail them to her instead, making her life a lot easier. Killian had generously offered to help her unpack and sort her things allowing them to spend some much needed quality time together.

They had been officially dating for just a few weeks and things were surprisingly going very well. He had broke down her walls and proved to her and her family that he was worthy of their trust. Even her father had taken a shine to her new boyfriend. Emma was pulled from her train of thought when her phone rang. She quickly reached for it on the kitchen table before picking it up.

“Sheriff Swan,” She answered officially. “Oh, that was fast. Thanks I’ll be there in two minutes,” Emma responded with a delighted smile upon her face.

“Who was that, love?” Killian asked as he tore open another box with his hook. He really did look for any excuse to use that thing.

“It was Granny. Our food is ready to be picked up. I’ll be right back,” She told slinging her purse around her shoulder before heading for the door.

“Are you sure you don’t want be to come with you?” He replied walking towards her.

“No it’s okay. I’ll just be gone a second,” Emma smiled with a sarcastic twinkle in her eye. Leaning in she placed a chaste kiss to his lips before making her way back to the door.

“I’ll miss you,” Killian voiced, calling to his Swan. She flashed him a saucy grin, rolling her eyes at him.

“I’ll miss you, too,” Emma laughed, closing the loft door with a soft thud. Once his girlfriend had left he went back to his task of opening boxes and sorting their contents. He lifted a particularly heavy one onto the table, tearing the flaps open. The package was filled with a variety of books and what appeared to be journals.

Keep reading

Were you there?

On the Glorious 25th May - after the brief but incident filled existence of the People’s Republic of Treacle Mine Road - eight men gave their lives doing the job they didn’t have to do.
We remember:
Dai Dickens
Billy Wiglet
Snouty Clapman
Horace Nancyball
Ned Coates
Reg Shoe
and John Keel

How Do They Rise Up…

“The scent rolled over him. He looked up. Overhead a lilac tree was in bloom. He stared. Damn! Damn! Damn! Every year he forgot. Well, no. He never forgot. He just put the memories away, like old silverware that you didn’t want to tarnish. And every year they came back, sharp and sparkling, and stabbed him in the heart."  Nightwatch ~ Terry Pratchett

It really is hilarious that I never remember the Glorious 25th until the Glorious 25th is upon us.  (This year, @inconstancyisaconstant pointed it out to me yesterday).

Every year he forgot. Well, no. He never forgot. He just put the memories away, like old silverware that you didn’t want to tarnish. And every year they came back, sharp and sparkling, and stabbed him in the heart. And today, of all days…

Mystery Woman [Part 4]

Pairing: Alexander Hamilton x Reader

Summary: I’m letting you go in blind, have fun!

TW: historical inaccuracies

Tags: @insane-hamilton-imagines @sbobsessions, @consumed-by-musicals, @hamiltonsquills, @spookass, @superwholockbooknerd526 , @gum-and-chips, @marvelous-hamilfan, @fandommanic66, @heimganger, @hamilsquad-hq, @nicemoviebutthebookwasbetter, @for-god-sake-john-sit-down, @hamiltion-trash88, @nataliemoorexoxo

“Alex! Breakfast!”

Four months had gone by, and you were no closer to getting Alexander home. You had tried the chest again, but to no avail. You even resorted to the internet. You and Alexander had embarrassingly sat in your living room trying a “magic spell” that did nothing but make your apartment smell like sulfur for the next week.

In the meantime, Alex adjusted accordingly. He taught himself how most of your new appliances. (He could’ve asked, but he tried to avoid you at all costs.) He was starting to gain a bit of an accent; he even learned a bit of slang. Most importantly, he maintained a low profile. He tried to stay inside as much as could and limit his contact with people.

However, you were becoming suspicious. Alex had started leaving the apartment to go on runs, claiming he needed to “do something to clear his mind”. You understood, really, but when he left at the same time every week, you began to formulate your own ideas as to what he was doing.

So today, you decided you were going to follow him. It was your day off, and his weekly run would come up in a few hours. What’s the harm, right?

Alex trudged into the kitchen looking groggy, his hair in a messy bun at the top of his head. He had been up all night writing. He wanted to make sure he remembered what happened to him and what better way than to write it all down (Alex, we have computers now. - Nope.) You gave him a heat compress for his wrist, as usual, and slid his plate in front of him. “Morning.” He muttered.


You sat in front of him as you sipped your tea, trying to silently pick his brain. You always wondered what was going on up there. Alex was still talking at bare minimum though you apologized countless times. He was hurt, you understood that now.

He looked up at you with an eyebrow raised. “Can I help you?” He asked gruffly. “So you’re talking to me now?” You returned. He rolled his eyes as he chewed on a piece of bacon, “I’m talking, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, like a four-year-old.”

His silverware hit the counter top with a clang as he leaned forward, annoyed with your persistence. “What do want me to say, huh? That I forgive you?”

“That would be nice, it’s been four months.” You answered. “I’ve apologized a million times. I gave you your biography. You know everything about yourself. What more do you want from me?”

Alexander went quiet as he stared at you. He felt the argument getting heated, so, for once, he backed down. It’s not like he had a comeback anyways. You were wrong about one thing, and he didn’t know how to tell you.

How to tell you that, after all the grief he put you through, after all the arguments and fighting, he understood. He knew why you didn’t tell him, and he knew you were right. What was his life compared to that of thousands? Millions?

“I didn’t.” Alex said quietly. He returned to eating as you furrowed your brow. “You didn’t what?” You asked. “I didn’t read it.” He replied.

Your lips formed an ‘O’ as you sat back. You hadn’t even considered that Alexander didn’t read it. You thought it was what he wanted. To “right his wrongs”, just like he said. You wondered what made him changed his mind as he pushed his plate away, suddenly losing his appetite.

“I get it now.” He told you. “This country? It’s become more than we could have ever hoped for.”

You snorted, “This country is trash.”

He glared at you momentarily, and shrunk at the sight, mumbling for him to continue. “If my wrongdoings helped make part of this country what it is today, who am I to change that? I fought for - am fighting for - this country. I have to do what I can to protect it. Even if it means fucking my life up, I guess.”

“Alexander, you don’t have to do that.” You said as painfully realized that you both had now switched sides. “Your life is just as important as anyone else’s. You deserve to be happy.”

Alex, for the first time in four months, smiled softly at you. He finally saw the care in your eyes. He felt the affection you held for him, and couldn’t feel any more content. Part of him wished he could stay in 2017 and live out the rest of his life with you. But he had responsibilities. He had Eliza. He had Philip. And he’d be damned if he became the missing father that Alex had lived without. “I’m going to, um, go write some more.”


“I’m okay.” He reassured you. “I promise.”

He retreated back to the guest room that he claimed as his own, leaving you in a confused daze. Your chest tightened as he left, words on your lips that you’d been meaning to say for so long. Even if you had the physical ability to speak then, you wouldn’t. You couldn’t do that to him. Not when he had a war to fight and a pregnant wife back home.

The guilt still wore you down though. You had these feelings for a married man. For someone who you learned about in textbooks. For someone who had higher priorities. As you cleaned up his plate, you wondered if this was how Angelica felt about him. “Well,” You said glumly to yourself, “At least I can connect better with my character now.”

Hours passed before Alex came out of his room. He was wearing his running clothes, a white shirt and gray joggers, ready for his weekly routine. “I’ll be back soon.” He told you. He didn’t even give you time to answer before he was out the door. He knew you’d only try and convince him to fix his mistakes.

You wasted no time in slipping on a pair of shoes and racing down to your car. As you slid in the driver’s seat, you noticed Alex’s biography in the passenger’s. You took the book between your hands, noticing that it looked just about the same as when you gave it to him. No wear and tear.

But you also noticed a single earmarked page.

You flipped open the book and skimmed through the page. You were hoping it would give you some kind of clue as to what he’s been doing. You thought there was nothing important there, huffing a bit, before you saw a single name.

Eliza Hamilton Reed



Ten minutes of googling, you found him. He was sitting on the porch of his fifth great-granddaughter’s home, fiddling with his hands. He hadn’t even noticed that you pulled up. You sighed as you recognized the hurt and pain in his eyes once more. You could see him rubbing at his eyes, wiping away tears before they could fall.

As you pondered why Alex always got himself into situations that did nothing but cause him pain, you exited you car and went to join him on the porch. He didn’t look at you, not directly. Just a side glance. You both sat in a somber silence, waiting for each other to speak.

“She’s named after my wife, you know.”


He turned with an apologetic expression, “I just wanted to meet her, Y/N.”

“I didn’t say anything.” You defended. “I’m not judging. I’m just here. As a friend.”

“Right. Friends.”

There was another long pause filled with unspoken feelings and emotion. Friends was the last thing you both wanted to be. But admitting it was the very thing you couldn’t do. “I knocked on the door.” He said glumly. “No one answered.”

“Maybe she’s not home.”

“I’ve been running past here for every week for the past three months. She’s always here.”

You thought about everything Alex had been through and what he planned on making himself go through. Enough was enough for you. “Well then, you’re gonna meet her.”


“Yep, right now. Let’s go.”

You began knocking loudly on the door as Alex tried to quiet you. “Y/N, come on. It’s okay, really.”

“Eliza!” You called. “Ms. Reed, may we have a minute?”

You only stopped when you heard someone call for your attention on the sidewalk. It was a teenage girl. She looked as if she was just coming home from school and gave you both confusing stares. “Are you looking for someone?”

“Um,” Alexander looked to you for help, to which you shrugged, “Yes. Eliza Hamilton Reed? This is her address, right?”

The girl shook her head immediately, “This house has been vacant for years.”

Alexander shook his head as well, “It can’t be. I was just here yesterday. I saw her.”

The girl looked at him with a surprised expression, obviously thinking that Alex was either crazy and a creep. You quickly stepped in, “He’s a family friend.” The teenager tucked her hair behind her ears and rolled her eyes. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’ve lived here for sixteen years, and my parents even longer. That house has been empty for at least thirty years.”

You and Alex tried to conceal the shock on your faces. It made absolutely no sense. Alex could’ve swore up and down that he’d seen his distant relative at this exact house every week for the past three months. Am I going insane?, He asked himself silently.

You thanked the girl who slowly nodded and went on her merry way as Alexander pondered what was going on. You turned to him slowly, “Alex?”

“I saw her! She has short brown hair and hazel eyes, and she was beautiful, and she reminded me,” He paused. He knew that what he was about to say would totally slaughter the already slim chances of either of you admitting your feelings, but he was just so overwhelmed and so damn confused, the words rolled of his tongue. “She reminded me of her.”

You took a step back, your feelings too powerful to make any rational actions. You breathed in and out through your nose as you restrained yourself from telling him the truth. You pushed your hands in your pockets to keep from pulling his face to yours and kissing the absolute life out of him, asking how he felt about her then.

You couldn’t do that. Not now.

“We need to figure out what’s going on.” You said, beckoning him to follow you to your car. You both slid into the car, ready to find some answers. As you started the car engine, Alex picked up his biography, muttering, “So that’s where that went.”

He opened the book to the earmarked page and skimmed through once more. As you turned left, you heard him start to read quietly to himself, sounding a bit confused. He stopped at the end of the page and started again. And then again.

“Alex, what are you doing?”

“Eliza’s name isn’t in here.”

“Your wife?”

He rolled his eyes, “No, my however-many-greats granddaughter.”

You stopped at a red light and took the book from his hand. “What do you mean she’s not in there. I saw it.” You muttered. You read through the page carefully, never once seeing her name. “See?” He told you.


You looked up at a green light and hit the gas pedal, saying sorry to the driver that couldn’t hear you. You threw the book back to him, “Look for the part about your son.”

“I’d rather not read about that, Y/N, it’s-”

“Just find it and read it to me.”

After about a minute, Alexander shifted uncomfortably as he read about his son’s death. “After public speaker and war veteran George Eacker slaughtered the Hamilton name at a Fourth July ceremony, Philip Hamilton, Alexander’s only son, challenged him to a duel. The nineteen year old son of the missing aide-de-camp didn’t stand a chance.”

“Missing?” You asked.

“That’s what it says.” Alex returned. “Why?”

“Alexander, history is moving on without you. You were supposed to have more children with Eliza, but since you never came back-”

“Philip is my only child.”

“So Eliza Hamilton Reed just,” You paused, thinking about how to phrase it, “Ceased to exist.”

You finally arrived at the apartment complex, quickly parking the car. He looked up at you with a slightly fearful look in his eye. He had only then realized that he overstayed his welcome in the future, and that it affected the past. “So what now?” He asked you.

You wanted to say, Well, you might as well just stay now. But you couldn’t. You had to do what was right, even if it hurt you and him in the process.

“We have to figure out how to get you home.”

You both spent the next few hours researching and pitching ideas off of each other. You avoided the elephant in the room, as did he, but you could feel it in the air. The uncertainty of whether or not he wanted to go. The pain that you would feel once he was gone. All of it came crashing down in the silence, just between the clicking of keyboards and the scratching of pens on paper.

“Okay,” You started, “So you got here through the chest in my room.”

“Yeah.” He prompted you to continue.

“That chest is probably just about as old as you.”

I slid a pen from out of his hair, letting it cascade down his shoulder as he snorted, “Gee, thanks.” You rolled your eyes as you glanced up at him. You watched as he wrote something down, his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration. “You know I meant.” You told him. “Anyways, it’s been in my family for years. Maybe the way to get you home is through a family heirloom or something.”

“I hate to break it to you, but most of my family is dead.” Alex said as he turned the page of his biography. He was reading for something to catch his eye, not to find out about himself. He had more important things to worry about.

“Then maybe the Schuyler’s.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Well, keep reading. Maybe Eliza left something in remembrance of you.”

There was another long period of silence full of stolen glances and google searches. After awhile, you found something that might have what you were looking. It was absolutely beautiful. “Alex, c’mere.”

“What is it?”


He huffed as he stood up from the lounge chair and joined you on the ground. “What, Y/N?” He asked peeking over your shoulder at your laptop screen. His jaw dropped as the memories came rushing back to him. “That’s your house.” You whispered. “Your house in Harlem. It’s in mint condition.”

“Well,” He swallowed, “If there’s anything that’ll take me home, it’ll be there.”

You checked visiting hours, only to find out it was closed for the night. You hadn’t noticed the time fly by, as it was then 11 PM. “It’s closed.” Alex stood up and walked to the other side of the room to gather his multitude of papers. “When does it open?”

“Tomorrow at two.”

“Guess we’re going tomorrow, then.”

You closed your laptop and accompanied him at the table, organizing his papers into neat piles. As both finished up, you met him at the head of the table. “So, what happens now?”

Alex looked at you, watching for any sign of the feelings that he knew you had for him. He took the sight of you in and locked eyes with you. You both knew what you wanted to happened. The question was, if anybody, who was going to be the first one.

It all happened so fast.

Without sparing a second, his hands reached for your waist and yours for his cheeks. Lips attached and passion at an all time high (not to mention, time running dry), you allowed him to lead you to the bedroom. A night full of affection and attraction followed, filled with breathy I love you’s and pleasure to no extent.

When it was over, you laid against his chest with his arm wrapped around your bare torso. You felt content for the first time in months. You knew what you did was wrong, and you knew you would beat yourself up for it later, but you needed to let him know, at least once, before he left. You felt Alex intertwine his free hand with yours, gripping it tightly.



“You know,” He started, “This was more than just-”

“I know.”

“And you know I still have to-”


He brought the back of your hand to hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss to it. “I still love you, though.”

You brought his arm tighter around your waist and sighed contently as the words you’d been longing to hear finally dropped from his lips.

“I still love you, too.”

You knew everything around you was still in chaos, but it didn’t matter. At that specific point in time, it was just you and him. Chaos could wait till the morning.

faerie-apples  asked:

Rivalry and Holidays

((I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG i was gonna do each as a separate post but this is the only one ive finished with my broken arm and all sorry lmao. also it kind of got away from me so its longer than i intended :V


“Emmanellain!” Artoirel de Fortemps’ voice was not loud, but a boyhood education in rhetoric assured it would carry. Emmanellain heard it from several rooms away, gave up on trying to find a cup with a handle, and turned around to straighten his coat.

“Yes, dear brother? I’m right here. No need to shout. Why so glum? It’s Saint Dannifen’s Day! Cheer up a bit, old boy.”

The eldest scion of House Fortemps leaned against the kitchen door and pinched the bridge of his nose in anticipation of an oncoming headache.

“Emmanellain,” he began again. “Why is there a child hiding in the coat closet?”

“Hiding? Gracious – you must have startled him, Artoirel.” From the slight waver in Emmanellain’s steps and the reddish flush from ear-tip to ear-tip, it was clear his brother was drunk as a country friar – not that this was uncommon for Emmanellain, of course, but he seemed to have taken the holiday as carte blanche to start drinking earlier in the day than was typically considered seemly. Emmanellain pulled an apple from a basket on the shelf next to him and polished it on the sleeve of his coat. “He thinks he’s not supposed to be here, you see.”

“He ISN’T supposed to be here,” Artoirel said slowly. “Fury’s sake, Emmanellain, you cannot just – did you just take him off the street?”

“Of course not!” Emmanellain scoffed . “I asked him if he’d ever had a proper St Dannifen’s Day, and he scarcely knew what that entailed, so I thought it would be best if I brought him here for the night.” Seeing his brother’s glare hardly lessened, he tried to explain further. “His name’s Honoroit. He works for a spice-merchant down in the Crozier and the brute had him hauling salt bricks since before sunrise, so I told the boy he ought to put the tongs down and come with me for the day.”

“Emmanellain, what were you thinking? What do you think Father will say when he finds out you’ve brought a CHILD home like he was a stray kitten? Hasn’t the boy got a family or –”

“No, no, nothing like that– Listen–listen–” Emmanellain held up his hand to stop Artoirel’s protests. He ignored the question of what Father would say, and what he was thinking, because of course Emmanellain never stopped to think even for a second about anything. “He hasn’t got a thrice-damned thing! His mother sold him for a purse of gil like so much old silverware, and the brute who employs him cuffed him across the ears for offering to carry my parcels in return for a coin or two.” Emmanellain gesticulated with wild passion, nearly flinging the apple halfway across the room. “How’s a lad of ten supposed to pay his way out of indenture when he’s knocked into the dirt for trying to earn an honest penny and he’s barely eaten enough to keep on his feet? Honestly, Artoirel, I think the boy deserves a medal for not simply picking my pocket, under the circumstances! Have you ever in your life heard such a dreadful story, my dear brother?”

Artoirel closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath. Of course he had heard such dreadful stories. You could walk down any back street of the Brume and find a hundred such stories, and worse if you cared to. Emmanellain, naive and sheltered idiot that he was, had finally been confronted by one of life’s harsher realities, and decided the best way to solve the problem was to invite it home for almond-cakes and stargazing.

“Listen – let me talk to him,” Artoirel heard Emmanellain say. “He’s a sensible lad. Smart as spear-point, I promise you.”

“Just…get him out of the coat closet, if you will, please,” Artoirel said, waving Emmanellain away.


All in all, the Fortemps Manor coat closet was a rather good hiding place – at least if you were a small boy. For a grown man, even one as slightly built as Emmanellain, it was a bit of a tight squeeze. Nonetheless, he was determined to confer with the boy face to face, and since Honoroit had set the terms of the engagement he would stand by them. Unsteadily, he shucked off his boots and crawled inside the coat closet on his hands and knees.

Honoroit was actually a bit hard to spot – his near miss with Artoirel had driven him far to the back of the closet, crouched behind several pairs of riding boots and almost entirely swallowed up by a rather lovely embroidered summer coat that hadn’t seen use since the Calamity. “Honoroit?” Emmanellain half-whispered, not wanting to startle the boy out of his hiding place. A pale freckled nose and a pair of wide green eyes appeared at the sound of his name, poking out from behind a black velvet sleeve. He was clearly in some distress, and appeared quite out of his element. Well, Emmanellain had hidden in a handful of closets in his time and usually ended up feeling quite the same way, so he felt the warm glow of kinship in his heart.

“Come on, my boy,” Emmanellain said, trying to sound as cheery as he could while crouched shoeless under one of his father’s fur coats. “My brother’s dreadful at parties and may not have cracked a smile since he was in our mother’s womb, but he means you no harm.” Sensing a note of doubt, Emmanellain continued. “I promise.”

“M'lord is drunk,” the boy mumbled, the implication apparently being that his promises may not be trustworthy when it came to the reactions of nobility to trespassing urchins.

“Accurate observation, my lad, but Fury Herself strike me down if my judgement prove untrue. Now, come on out of the coat closet, will you?”

Emmanellain held out his hand, and slowly, hesitantly, Honoroit took it.

Artoirel was waiting outside the closet at a safe distance while his brother tried his best to extract his unannounced holiday guest. The boy stiffened up when he caught sight of Artoirel, adopting the tense pose of someone who believes danger imminent. Obviously he’d had the fear of rich and powerful men drilled into him practically from birth, but Artoirel noted it seemed to have made him more wary than meek. Emmanellain hovered somewhat behind the small boy, wringing his sleeve anxiously. For all his melodramatic rambling and idiotic behavior, Emmanellain was a creature of very sincere passions, and damned if his brother’s wrenching concern for a destitute child wouldn’t have moved a heart of stone.

“I am informed your name is Honoroit,” he said. The boy nodded. “Do you have a surname?”

“Banlardois, m'lord.”

“I’ve not heard it.”

“No reason you should have, m'lord.” He tapped one foot nervously on the carpet; Artoirel noted he was wearing new shoes.

“You are…acquainted with my brother Emmanellain?” Artoirel asked. The little boy nodded somewhat more enthusiastically at this.

“For well on half a season, m'lord!” he said brightly. Emmanellain glanced awkwardly around the room as though the revelation were somewhat embarrassing, but Honoroit kept going. “Every few days, or near to it – he comes by with food if I’ve not had any and brings cards – dice – I can do sums in my head now when we play games and I can tell when m'lord lets me win – and books, and –”

“Honoroit,” Emmanellain interrupted gently, looking as though he wanted to disappear into his extravagant fur coat. “I mean, we’ve been – like I told you, the boy’s smart as a spear-point– I mean, it’s not as though we have children in the house – begging your pardon, brother! – so I thought, what’s the use of alphabet primers and the like sitting on our shelves gathering dust?”

Artoirel, for his part, might have been knocked over with a feather. Emmanellain’s attention being the flighty thing that it was, he’d presumed his brother had dragged the urchin home on a brandy-soaked surge of holiday spirits. Hearing that he’d been teaching the boy mathematics…bringing him schoolbooks? Well, he had a certain image of his younger brother, and this did not fit at all. Emmanellain bragged about so much embarrassing nonsense that he got up to in his spare time, and yet he’d avoided mentioning this singular devotion to charity.

Of course, when presented with clear facts, the rational thing to do is adjust one’s mental model.

“Emmanellain,” Artoirel said with a sigh. “You are a legendary idiot. Fetch Filibert and ha ve him brew another cup of cream tea.” After a moment, he added, “withOUT brandy, if that was not plainly obvious.” Honoroit realized Artoirel’s intentions before Emmanellain did; the child’s eyes lit up with anticipation while Emmanellain blinked at Artoirel in vague, drunken confusion. “Oh, and…” the very slightest hint of a smile might have crossed Artoirel’s face, though it was gone in a heart’s beat, “…a good and merry Saint Dannifen’s Day to you both.”


Xiumin: Xiumin hadn’t forgotten to pick up his girlfriend because he wasn’t a dumbass, however the seven car pile-up that was blocking Xiumin from moving even a foot had him becoming more and more tardy to pick up his Jagi from work. Realizing too late that he should have pulled off the highway and taken the back streets, he stood stuck in traffic for hours. The worst part was the fact that Xiumin’s phone was dead, making it impossible to comfort his girlfriend that he was coming for her. After four hours in painstakingly slow traffic, Xiumin found his girlfriend resting on a bench outside of the bookstore she worked at. Raising her head from her arm, she wouldn’t be angry anymore, just happy to see that he had been coming after all.   

Luhan: “FUCK” was the only word Luhan could draw from his conscious as he sped past car after car in a manner that probably wasn’t the safest. He would have slowed down to prevent a collision of some sorts but he had to get to his Jagiya as soon as possible. Lu could have sworn he had pressed the send button on his phone, alerting Lao Gao to pick up his girlfriend from work, he had wanted too but his schedule did haven’t any free spaces. The fact that Luhan had been filming his most recent film for two days straight with only three hours of sleep under his belt probably didn’t help. Thinking back to it know, Luhan shook his head in frustration at the image of him blankly sitting on the couch with his phone in front of him, phasing in and out before believing he sent the text and getting ready for his next scene. When his girlfriend saw him pull into the parking lot, Luhan would probably be crying harder than her due to being a shitty boyfriend and the fact that he was exhausted out of his mind. 

Kris: Kris really meant to try his best this time at being a good boyfriend. His girlfriend had asked him to pick her up from work on Thursday, because her car was in the repair shop and taking the bus would take too long. Kris hurriedly accepted the offer, wanting to make up for spilling black soda drink onto the lace pillow that was a gift from her now recently deceased grandmother. It had stained and Kris had furiously apologized saying they could get a copy of it made, but when he found out the grandmother had made it by hand using specific cloth and dyes, he felt like crying. His Jagi said it wasn’t that big of a deal, she knew Kris was clumsy and always had accidents wherever he went, but he could still see the sadness in her eyes. So, he wanted to make it up to her. Kris made a note of it in his phone’s notes, he made sure to write it down in the planner he keeps with him at all the times, and he made the occasional sticky note or pen on the back of the hand to remember. Unfortunately, when Kris was finishing up some paperwork at the office and a coworker came by asking why he was still here and not picking up his girlfriend, Kris became extremely confused. Swiping back to the original text to make sure it said Thursday, Kris let out a gasp when the word Tuesday popped up instead. His workplace wasn’t that far away from his Jagiya’s but she had been waiting for three hours so Kris knew he still fucked up. “It’s okay Kris, just try to remember better next time, okay?”  

Lay:  It had taken longer than Yixing had wanted to perfect the new moves for the Lightsaber performance, but after going through it one more time he was happy with the results. Wincing from the pain in his waist, Yixing took a quick shower before falling into bed without even thinking to dry off. Yixing woke up confused and sore with an incessant ringing in his ears, waking up enough to see it was his phone going off. Picking it up his eyes widened at the number of texts and voicemails he had from his girlfriend. He didn’t realized what was wrong until he read the latest one sent, which was about two hours ago. It simply said, “Lay-ah, please. What did I do wrong?” Feeling his heart clutch at knowing he forgot to pick up his girlfriend and had instead gone to sleep left a pit in the middle of his stomach. Forgoing real clothes, Yixing threw on some sandals before zooming down to the coffee shop where his girlfriend worked at. Walking up to the glass window that let him look into the shop, Yixing saw his girlfriend crying with countless coffee cup strewn across the table she was sitting at. Lightly tapping on the window, catching his Jagi’s eyes, Yixing bowed his head against the glass in humility.

Chen: His girlfriend was going to make Chen into a eunuch after leaving his her in the woods for six hours too long. It wasn’t his fault though! He had visited his family after dropping his Jagiya off for her hike that she had been planning for weeks now. She had wanted it to be perfect with what trails she would take and how long it would last and most importantly; the proper time for Chen to pick her up. However, he ran into a pickle with his family, Chen loved his family and it was great to visit them but when it was time to start driving back and his mom was still looking over the baby books; Chen knew he was fucked. He couldn’t exactly tell his mom he had to leave to pick his girlfriend up because his family didn’t know he was dating anyone. The both of them didn’t want to tell anyone with Chen being famous and his family be super religious but now all Chen could do was wait until the conversation died and make a run for it. There was a good few minutes of after picking her up where she threatened to ruin his idol image. 

Suho: “Jagiya, do well on your test and fighting!” Suho chirped into the phone before cutting the connection. He had been helping his girlfriend study for her final exams in her literature class and was excited to see the hard work pay off when he would pick her up from class later in the evening. Suho grabbed his jacket off his chair and walked towards the front of the SM building to go grab some congratulatory bubble tea for his Jagi when one of the staff called out his name. Feeling the apprehension already spread across his shoulders, Suho turned around with a fixed smile on his face. He found out that some of the top company officials wanted to have a quick impromptu meeting with him. Suho agreed but knew deep down it was going to take more than an hour, wishing he could text his girlfriend real quick about the situation, but she was taking her text and he had people waiting on him. Threes hour later and a frantic Suho running to his parked car showed the night was not going as plan, going as fast as he could and maybe breaking a few traffic rules Suho made it to the building where his girlfriend was at. Shuffling towards his girlfriend, who was sitting on the steps outside, Suho kept he face down as he stood in front of her. “It was SM again, wasn’t it?” 

Chanyeol: It was a stupid fight and he knows that but Chanyeol could not stop blaming himself for the worry he know was running through his girlfriend’s head. They fought all the time, never about anything super important, but they knew how to get on each other’s nerves. Like any other day, Chanyeol was driving his girlfriend to her job at the junk stock market that always hosts in an obscured field out in the countryside. She made beautiful jewelry from old bits of silverware or pieces of broken stone. The most current argument was over Chan thinking that she should take her craft and use it somewhere she could make real money, which in no matter of time had the two of them yelling their heads off at each other. Abruptly stopping at the entrance of the market, Chan unlocked the doors and waited in silence for his girlfriend to get out. It was on the way back that Chan realized how stupid he was being by trying to force her to do something she doesn’t want to do. Bickering at himself, Chanyeol let himself into his studio to use his frustrated energy for a greater good. He never would had known he had been in the studio for seven hours straight if he didn’t look at the clock and see how late he was to picking his Jagiya up. Speeding out of the parking lot and onto the highway, Chan realized how worried his girlfriend must be thinking he purposely didn’t pick her up because of their fight. Reaching for his phone to tell her otherwise, he cursed out loud at remembering leaving it on the piano. The both of them were crying when they found each other walking around the empty marketplace looking for one another. 

Baekhyun: Baekhyun couldn’t stop bouncing every bit of his body in excitement for when Kai saw the surprise that was waiting for him. Baekhyun had been feeling extremely bored today with nothing to do but pick his girlfriend up from her school conference later that day. He had already annoyed the shit out of the exo-m members and was forbidden to enter the dorm for the rest of the week. Feeling lonely and bored out of his mind, Baekhyun moved on to teasing Kyungsoo to see how big of a reaction he could get. However, before Kyungsoo could really blow up (and he has before, Baekhyun has definitely seen it) Kai came over and calmed D.O down back to his squishy self. Baekhyun was even more ticked off when Kai gave a death glare for irritating Kyungsoo. Fast forward to Baekhyun wrapping two rolls of saran wrap around Kai’s motorcycle, while he had Chanyeol distract Kai by talking about how he’s Kai’s fan, and how Kai is the best, and yada yada yada… It was one hell of a reaction and the best was if Kai didn’t want a scratch on his precious bike, he was going to have to be out here all night carefully peeling away the plastic. Chuckling to himself, Baekhyun checked his phone while heading to his room. Stopping in the middle of the halfway, Baekhyun instantly turned around and grab his keys before running towards the parking garage, letting every obscenity he knew fly from his mouth. He knew he had to pick up his girlfriend, but Baekhyun never realized how long it would take to wrap up a bike with plastic. Speeding towards his Jagi’s university, Baekhyun could only give a small smile and weak laugh as his girlfriend stomp towards the car.    

D.O: He didn’t know how yet, but he was going to find a way to kill the beagle line. He had come back from making them an amazing dinner to his room only to see his side of the dorm covered in screenshots of him getting hit by a car in his TV show, It’s Okay That’s Love. After forcing those idiots to clean it up, Kyungsoo went for a nap to cool off. Unfortunately, he slept for way too long and knew he was royally fucked when it came to picking his girlfriend up on time. Stopping in front of where his Jagi took night classes, Kyungsoo saw his girl mope her way towards the car which lead him to repeatedly smack his head against the wheel.   

Tao: Okay, so…… Tao knew he had a teensy tiny problem when it came to shopping, usually he got too involved into it and could spend hours on end buying things from every store in the world but he always bought really stylist shit that brought his swag level to a new extreme. And that’s kind of what happened this time, Tao had agreed to pick his girlfriend up from her model go sees at around 9 pm. Getting home a little early from his workout with Lay, he had some time to kill on the web. Seeing in his email that there was a sale going on at Cartier, Tao knew he had to look at the options. Which led to Tao checking out the new jackets at Yves Saint Laurent, and then having to look up how long until the new Gucci cologne came out, which in enviably lead Tao to having these really cute embodied leather boots from Gucci that he could wear next time to the airport and super fucking late to picking up his girlfriend. The worst part was probably that Tao did feel sorry but when he went to pick her up, he just couldn’t stop blabbing about what he bought.   

Kai: Kai was probably having one the best times in his life since he became an idol, every day was practicing new dances, shooting cfs, or going to sign events. Which were amazing and Kai appreciated every little moment but it got to be hectic, so being able to go for drinks with Taemin and Ravi was pure bliss. He didn’t have to think about anything except for having to figure out a way to get Taemin to pay for the next round of Soju. It was probably around 2 in the morning when Ravi asked how his Jagi was doing, which through a hazy cloud of alcohol, Kai was still able to react in fear. He had completely forgotten to pick his girlfriend up from the airport. She had been visiting family in Europe and needed him to pick her up, which he had happily agreed to as he played with Jjanggu and Monggu. Quickly telling them the story and laughing at the stupidity of it, Kai deemed himself sober enough to pick up his Jagi. He tried practicing how to apologize but anytime Kai started to get a little too sincere, he would burst out laughing. He blamed the alcohol on this one, so when he found his girlfriend sitting on the curb with her suitcases around her. Kai simply put everything in the car and stayed silent in hoping that nothing would make him lose his shit and laugh at something that wasn’t actually funny.  

Sehun: Sehun didn’t mind having to drop off his girlfriend at the mall for her girls’ day with her friends, but when she told him to pick her up after the mall closed, Sehun whined at the thought. Not really say yes or no to her statement, Sehun got back to his apartment where he continue to be a lazy noodle for the rest of the day. It was around the time he was playing video games with Chanyeol that Sehun had a thought. She was going to be hanging out with her best friends, couldn’t one of them give her a ride home? Mulling over it some more, Sehun agreed with himself that he didn’t need to pick up his girlfriend; she had it covered. With being reassured with himself, Sehun went to take a nap. It was only when he woke up at 1:30 am and saw his girlfriend absent that he knew something was wrong. Immediately checking his phone for any messages, he cringed inwardly at the dozens of texts from his girlfriend, each one getting more and more violent as he kept reading them. Apparently, her friends had never shown up for their friends date and she had wanted to waited it out so she only texted Sehun as he was lying down for his nap. Safe to say, this noodle was going to get his ass beat. 

I hope you guys enjoy this reaction and remember, keep on requesting!!!

- Admin Jade

A Proposal

Danse headcanon time:

Danse is kind of a traditional type guy. He is caught up in a fascination with the past. Once he found himself in love with Sole, and Sole returned those feelings, he would want to propose to them. He wouldn’t be able to go out and buy a ring but he is more than capable of making one. He would find the metals he needed by collecting old silverware, jewelry, and other odds and ends. He would put all of himself into lovingly crafting the ring and keeping it a secret from Sole. He’d want it to be a surprise.

Danse would plan it all out in his mind and try to make it perfect. When the time came the date went wonderfully, too wonderfully for his plans unfortunately. Before he really knew what was happening he and Sole were basking in the afterglow. It was so wonderful to be with them, they’d make him forget the rest of the world sometimes. Fumbling through his clothes, trying to find the pocket on pants he was not wearing, he’d tell Sole to close their eyes. This wasn’t what he had planned but with the way he felt he didn’t want to wait any longer. He’d turn back and take their hand away from their covered eyes and not even be able to speak the words. Just lying there holding Sole gently, the ring held between his thumb and index finger. Sweet and emotional. The rest of the night was filled with love and passion.

Danse apologizes the next morning. Describing all that he had planned and how it hadn’t gone that way at all. Sole just shakes their head and kisses him. They would have to make up a story if anyone asked about how he proposed but the way it did happen was perfect in Sole’s eyes.

The scent rolled over him.
He looked up.
Overhead, a lilac tree was in bloom.
He stared.
Damn! Damn! Damn! Every year he forgot. Well, no. He never forgot. He just put the memories away, like old silverware that you didn’t want to tarnish. And every year they came back, sharp and sparkling, and stabbed him in the heart. And today of all days…
—  Terry Pratchett, Night Watch

Overhead, a lilac tree was in bloom.
He stared.
Damn! Damn! Damn! Every year he forgot. Well, no. He never forgot. He just put the memories away, like old silverware that you didn’t want to tarnish. And every year they came back, sharp and sparkling, and stabbed him in the heart. And today, of all days …

- Night Watch

Prompt: Memory
11 of 100

I maked these: Alchemical supply box.
the snake surrounding the box is an Ouroboros, symbolizing rebirth (image stolen from the internet) it surrounds the zodiac symbols with their corresponding way matter is changed(source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alchemical_symbol )
they surround the symbol for the philosopher’s stone, aka squaring the circle. In the center is the star of chaos, serving as the center circle to the philosopher’s stone and marking “Professor Crowe” as a chaos worshiper

the box is actually an old silverware box and I intend to use it to keep my dag supplies and steampunky costume pieces.

How to Start your Craft

Wanna start witchcraft but don’t know where to start? Start by cleaning your house. I don’t mean just dusting it, I mean go through boxes of old things. Go through old clothes to make into ritual robes, or put spells for good luck on them before donating them. Go through your cabinets for spices your parents/roommates/you bought for that one recipe three years ago that you didn’t use, look at that those antiques your great aunt left when she died and you got stuck with, look at Grammy’s bulky, ugly jewelry, look at the old silverware and that drawer everyone has that’s just filled with random miscellaneous BS that was on the counter. 

Hunting for Treasure

Prompt: Hijack March Madness Day 5 (Discovery)
: Jack’s finally decided to find Hiccup’s hoard. It isn’t what he expected.

This was honestly one of the most fun fills to write. A bit of world building, and a dash of good old goofy boyfriends. Not gonna lie, if someone draws something based off this fill I will scream and love you forever. I just want to see this one actually drawn out lol!

Dragons were well documented to have hoards that they guarded jealously. Some had very typical hoards of jewels and gold, but those hoards were growing more and more scarce. The younger dragons tended to find things that they found themselves attracted to. Some hoards that the Haddocks and other dragon shifters had documented were hoards of cheese, hoards of knives, stuffed animals, sea creatures (usually the sea dragons though), beads, owls, and makeup.

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