#all these good people lending them a hand keeping them safe teaching them how to live life like this.. they would be killed in the first-

[spotsupstuff]

Where do Boreas and Zephyr end up in the off the string Ancients au after getting off the string?

well, assuming that Euros and Sparrows manage to find Boreas before he fucks off on the journey to Zeph alone or Desaevio Houses manage to catch him, the three would make the journey to her together and with Sparrows bein the only one with a place to go, she'd suggest coming over to her home at least until they figure out smth better

fuckin... Euros tryin to rope the other two into the joys of baby sitting.. Boreas constantly smacks his head on doorways. Inferno gives Boreas a fucking shotgun n starts teaching him how to use it while Sparrows, very conscious of the religious importance of Iterators, is just lookin behind them like 👀💦 Inkling would get along with Zephyr WONDERFULLYYYYYY,, would try to teach her how work around the house despite her disabilities so she would Finally get to do smth else than just sit and cling on to survival. Boreas n granda glaring at each other from the other sides of a room as if one of them isn't alive strictly because of spite

they lose Brook and everybody is trying so hard to find her and at the end it turns out that she somehow managed to hide under Boreas' chlamys and has been clinging on to his back for a solid hour now. no he did not know about this

at the end of it all Sparrows family would get together and probably renovate some house from beyond the retaining walls of Euros' facilities where the Gen 1s could hide away, because ultimately Zeph n B need to stay a secret more than Euros himself. about Euros people already know! and at least he's still within his own walls. but Zeph is supposed to be a secret and B is so damnably important as a bearer of the capital city, that if they were found out the family would get into a lot of trouble

so the aged humidifiers get to have a lil dwelling in the forests nearby, seems like! <3

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating All Might would include:

Meeting either as another hero, teacher or a civilian, and him just being absolutely enamored with you and doing whatever he can to get your attention or better yet a date with you.

If you’re a hero even with a sidekick he loves working with you not caring if you work with a different company, if your a teacher he spends most time with you and asks you to teach him some things to help, and if you’re a civilian he takes you out on flashy dates until he gets calming night in with you and enjoys it. 

After enough time together he opens up about how he can’t always be All Might but also doesn’t push having a successor on you but he couldn’t hold it in anymore especially since you’ve become one of the most important people in his life.

He enjoys going out to nice restaurants or taking you as his date to hero parties, but he enjoys taking a walk and talking or having a quiet picnic with you, any kind of dates that are relaxed and calming he has come to like the best. 

His favorite forms of affection are: Hugging, Hand-holding, Cheek and forehead kisses, Cuddling, Keeping his arm or hand somewhere on you.

No matter what you yourself is like as a person you have constant big dog energy around you because of him even when he’s not All Might.

Being in a relationship with Toshinori Yagi would be like having a best friend who's always there for you, no matter what. He's super supportive and caring, always ready to lend an ear or a shoulder to cry on when you're down. He's a good listener and always has some wise advice up his sleeve even if he’s winging it most of the time. He is an optimistic person and has an infectious personality that just draws you in even on his bad days. He's always up for a good time and he's the kind of person who just makes you feel good, safe and special.

Practically adopting Midoriya together along with some of the other children but mainly Midoriya who was surprised to meet you but had questions for hours or even the green haired boy trying to put the two of you together and fix you both up.

Taking care of him on his bad days or when he can’t even become All Might on certain days, cheering him up or taking his mind off of it and even looking out for him or protecting him if you’re a hero.

Your relationship is full of joy, trust and communication. It makes him feel so loved and appreciated that he always tries to make sure to return that sentiment. He finds himself thinking about you all the time, missing you when you're apart and always looking forward to seeing you again to pick up where you both left off, and it makes him feel incredibly warm inside.

He can get jealous at times, just like anyone else. But he usually tries to be as understanding as possible and always talks to the other person to figure out what's going on. Even if he does get jealous, He tries not to let it affect your relationship or how he treats other people who make him jealous.

He’s always supportive of your interests and passions, and he’s always there for you when you need him. He’s also really affectionate and physical, and he enjoys being domestic in different ways with you, from giving you a hug or kiss to making your favorite food or doing something creative together.

Hands down is the type of person to hand write post-it notes and stick them around the house waiting for you to see them and read the cute little things he puts on them or the laugh at his stupid jokes.

He really values the small things in his relationship. He loves coming home and seeing your face, or getting a text or call from you just to say hello or tell him about something exciting going on in your life even if it was seeing a dog when going home. He loves when you laugh together or share a special moment together.

He always makes sure to tell you how much you mean to him every day. The most important thing in any romantic relationship is communication. It's so easy to get caught up in the day-to, day-to-day things that you forget to make time for each other and have those important conversations. It's so easy to take each other for granted, but making an effort to make the most out of every moment and telling you how important you are to him is so important.

You make breakfast together every day, no matter how early it is. And no matter how grumpy or tired he could be in the morning, that always seems to change when the amazing smell of your breakfast kicks his senses into gear. He believes with everything in him that you truly are the best, and although he’ll always strive to be worthy of you, he’ll never be able to thank you enough for always being there for him. You’re his best friend, his soulmate, and his love.

He’s currently considering marriage and starting a family together even how to go about talking it all out with you, and he couldn't be more excited about your shared future. You have a strong relationship and great communication, and he knows that you both can continue to make each other happy and keep growing together. You both want to continue to support one another and be there for each other in good times and bad no matter what lies ahead.

His relationship with his romantic partner is very special to him. He loves the time you spend together, whether you're going on dates, cuddling on the couch, or just talking on the phone during work or when one of you is away. He feels like you're very connected and can always be yourselves with each other.

Your smile always makes him smile. Even if he’s having the worst day of his life, just looking at you makes him smile. Your kindness is also a big thing for him. You are always considerate and helpful, and he can always trust you to do what's right. Your honesty is another big thing he appreciates about you. You’re always truthful and upfront, even when it might be difficult or uncomfortable. Your optimism is also a little thing he loves about you. You always try to see the best in everything and everyone, and you always try to look on the bright side.

Face-sitting and Cock-warming - have been and will continue his most favorite way to unwind and relax from his day with you.

18+ coming up if you're uncomfortable or underage, please don't read. Thank you!

Body worship and Praise - is his ultimate favorite thing in the bedroom or anywhere really regardless if it’s done to him or you he loves and eats it up.

Size kink especially on days where his All Might form lasts longer than 2 minutes regardless of your own size. 

Overstimulation - which he didn’t even realize he was into until he went one to many times with you and liked how much of a mess you became for him.

Phone Sex/Skype Sex/Video - not his most top favorite but knows it’ll get the job done if you or him are out and away on business and enjoys teasing you.

[aardvark-123]

~Excessively Twee Skyrim Headcanons: Winterhold Edition~

There are about twenty thousand people left in Winterhold. Thousands left after the Great Collapse, namely those who could afford to move out, and who dared to make the long journey through bear, bandit, wolf, troll, ice wraith, draugr and avalanche country. Winterhold was bled dry of the rich, the brave and the foolish, leaving hunters, fisherfolk, farmers and the College's mages behind.

The people of Winterhold don't really bother with money any more. Travellers come and spend the stuff on occasion, but for the most part people do what work they're good at, help each other when they can and share what they can spare. Winterhold may not be a busy or fancy city, but its people care for one-another and no-one is left on their own.

The College of Winterhold is of course the mammoth in the room; part of Winterhold, yet standing aloof from it, feared and distrusted by many. The College is often blamed for the Great Collapse, and a few of its mages have begun to resent the people of Winterhold, enough to leave the gate barred against a possible angry mob.

While there is a deep, painful rift in Winterhold's history, there are still people who reach out across it. Mages are still known to blow storms away from the coast, heal the sick and wounded, teach magic tricks to anyone who'll listen and drink the night away in the Frozen Hearth. A lot of people welcome them into the town, are glad of their help, and lend a hand at the College where one's needed.

Jarl Korir would love to be a "proper" jarl: rich, powerful, feared and adored. He'll settle, however, for "nominally in charge of a city where no-one is starving, homeless, a religious extremist, or hell-bent on conquering the world with dark magic and legions of undead". He keeps Winterhold's treasury (both piggy banks) safe for whenever the city needs a public service, and has been known to help shovel snow off the roads in late summer.

Winterhold is snowy for ten months of the year, and spends the remaining two full of slushy mud. Yes, the main roads have cobblestones, but the mud has a way of flowing down from the hills and sliding inexorably around the city. They say that the second most important possession anyone in Winterhold owns is a sturdy pair of boots.

The soil around Winterhold can barely grow a scraggly snowberry bush or a tuft of brown grass, and it's mainly through sheer determination and fervent prayers to Kyne and Azura that the first there farmers managed to grow crops. The Clever-Men of old learned how to sing vigour into Winterhold's crops and pull the frost out of their foots, but for the most part, people ate fish and seaweed and caught scurvy.

Hang on, I said 'excessively twee', didn't I? This needs a dash of my speciality, girl power and earnest silliness. For the honour of High Hrothgar!

Eight years ago, Colette Marence worked out how brew potions of Resist Frost and Fortify Stamina Regeneration for plants. Watering cans turned into vessels of enchanted rain, and soon leeks, carrots, apple trees and even tomatoes were blooming in Winterhold's fields.

Faralda has a lot of energy, which she pours into her work as the College of Winterhold's Destruction master. What she does in the game- standing guard outside the gate for hours at a time- does not do justice to the "real" Faralda at all. She has been known to somersault backwards over a stray bear whilst pelting it with fireballs, punch a dragon in the snout with her knuckles wreathed in lightning, and even teach Winterhold's handful of rebellious teenagers how to dance.

Enthir is friendly to everyone, and has worked out how to weave an irresistible sales pitch or a threatening demand for money into a polite greeting and a slap on the back. He is vulnerable, however, to being shaken roughly by the shoulders and told "GO AWAY, YOU CRETIN!".

The College's students and faculty can be a wild, unpredictable bunch, yet Mirabelle Ervine has managed to keep the worst of their behaviour in check for years. How, you might ask? Does she whip wayward mages, send atronachs to drag them to prison, torture them with lightning or hold their loved ones to ransom? No, in fact she has a sad, almost tender way of saying she's disappointed in you that can be utterly heartbreaking. She also has fireballs.

Tolfdir is a natural-born teacher; he wants to guide the next generation of wizards to greatness, and knows the basics of all the schools of magic. He also enjoys learning, and hopes to instill that passion in at least a few of the apprentices. Mirabelle was like that too, and she often misses teaching when the busy life of a deputy arch-mage is getting her down.

Nirya and Faralda are constantly trying to one-up each other, whether in displays of ferocious magic power or tense pie-eating contests. They tried to race around the courtyard once, only to crash into each other and get concussed. They tried to climb up the statue of Azura once, only to be batted away with a rolled-up newspaper by Aranea Ienith. They tried to have a pillow fight once, only to end up having a nap together. They have successfully slain at least one Legendary Dragon.

Phinis Gestor uses a zombie to carry his shopping, just to make people stare.

[hellsitesonlybookclub]

Little Women, Louisa May Alcott

Chapter 33-34

"New York, November.

"Dear Marmee and Beth,—

"I'm going to write you a regular volume, for I've got heaps to tell, though I'm not a fine young lady travelling on the continent. When I lost sight of father's dear old face, I felt a trifle blue, and might have shed a briny drop or two, if an Irish lady with four small children, all crying more or less, hadn't diverted my mind; for I amused myself by dropping gingerbread nuts over the seat every time they opened their mouths to roar.

"Soon the sun came out, and taking it as a good omen, I cleared up likewise, and enjoyed my journey with all my heart.

"Mrs. Kirke welcomed me so kindly I felt at home at once, even in that big house full of strangers. She gave me a funny little sky-parlor—all 404 she had; but there is a stove in it, and a nice table in a sunny window, so I can sit here and write whenever I like. A fine view and a church-tower opposite atone for the many stairs, and I took a fancy to my den on the spot. The nursery, where I am to teach and sew, is a pleasant room next Mrs. Kirke's private parlor, and the two little girls are pretty children,—rather spoilt, I fancy, but they took to me after telling them 'The Seven Bad Pigs;' and I've no doubt I shall make a model governess.

"I am to have my meals with the children, if I prefer it to the great table, and for the present I do, for I am bashful, though no one will believe it.

"'Now, my dear, make yourself at home,' said Mrs. K. in her motherly way; 'I'm on the drive from morning to night, as you may suppose with such a family; but a great anxiety will be off my mind if I know the children are safe with you. My rooms are always open to you, and your own shall be as comfortable as I can make it. There are some pleasant people in the house if you feel sociable, and your evenings are always free. Come to me if anything goes wrong, and be as happy as you can. There's the tea-bell; I must run and change my cap;' and off she bustled, leaving me to settle myself in my new nest.

"As I went downstairs, soon after, I saw something I liked. The flights are very long in this tall house, and as I stood waiting at the head of the third one for a little servant girl to lumber up, I saw a gentleman come along behind her, take the heavy hod of coal out of her hand, carry it all the way up, put it down at a door near by, and walk away, saying, with a kind nod and a foreign accent,—

"'It goes better so. The little back is too young to haf such heaviness.'

"Wasn't it good of him? I like such things, for, as father says, trifles show character. When I mentioned it to Mrs. K., that evening, she laughed, and said,—

"'That must have been Professor Bhaer; he's always doing things of that sort.'

"Mrs. K. told me he was from Berlin; very learned and good, but poor as a church-mouse, and gives lessons to support himself and two 405 little orphan nephews whom he is educating here, according to the wishes of his sister, who married an American. Not a very romantic story, but it interested me; and I was glad to hear that Mrs. K. lends him her parlor for some of his scholars. There is a glass door between it and the nursery, and I mean to peep at him, and then I'll tell you how he looks. He's almost forty, so it's no harm, Marmee.

"After tea and a go-to-bed romp with the little girls, I attacked the big work-basket, and had a quiet evening chatting with my new friend. I shall keep a journal-letter, and send it once a week; so good-night, and more to-morrow."

"Tuesday Eve.

"Had a lively time in my seminary, this morning, for the children acted like Sancho; and at one time I really thought I should shake them all round. Some good angel inspired me to try gymnastics, and I kept it up till they were glad to sit down and keep still. After luncheon, the girl took them out for a walk, and I went to my needle-work, like little Mabel, 'with a willing mind.' I was thanking my stars that I'd learned to make nice button-holes, when the parlor-door opened and shut, and some one began to hum,—

'Kennst du das land,'

like a big bumble-bee. It was dreadfully improper, I know, but I couldn't resist the temptation; and lifting one end of the curtain before the glass door, I peeped in. Professor Bhaer was there; and while he arranged his books, I took a good look at him. A regular German,—rather stout, with brown hair tumbled all over his head, a bushy beard, good nose, the kindest eyes I ever saw, and a splendid big voice that does one's ears good, after our sharp or slipshod American gabble. His clothes were rusty, his hands were large, and he hadn't a really handsome feature in his face, except his beautiful teeth; yet I liked him, for he had a fine head; his linen was very nice, and he looked like a gentleman, though two buttons were off his coat, and there was a patch on one shoe. He looked sober in spite of his humming, till he went to the window to turn the hyacinth bulbs toward the sun, and stroke the cat, who received him like an old friend. Then he smiled; and when a tap came at the door, called out in a loud, brisk tone,—

406 "'Herein!'

"I was just going to run, when I caught sight of a morsel of a child carrying a big book, and stopped to see what was going on.

"'Me wants my Bhaer,' said the mite, slamming down her book, and running to meet him.

"'Thou shalt haf thy Bhaer; come, then, and take a goot hug from him, my Tina,' said the Professor, catching her up, with a laugh, and holding her so high over his head that she had to stoop her little face to kiss him.

"'Now me mus tuddy my lessin,' went on the funny little thing; so he put her up at the table, opened the great dictionary she had brought, and gave her a paper and pencil, and she scribbled away, turning a leaf now and then, and passing her little fat finger down the page, as if finding a word, so soberly that I nearly betrayed myself by a laugh, while Mr. Bhaer stood stroking her pretty hair, with a fatherly look, that made me think she must be his own, though she looked more French than German.

"Another knock and the appearance of two young ladies sent me back to my work, and there I virtuously remained through all the noise and gabbling that went on next door. One of the girls kept laughing affectedly, and saying 'Now Professor,' in a 407 coquettish tone, and the other pronounced her German with an accent that must have made it hard for him to keep sober.

"Both seemed to try his patience sorely; for more than once I heard him say emphatically, 'No, no, it is not so; you haf not attend to what I say;' and once there was a loud rap, as if he struck the table with his book, followed by the despairing exclamation, 'Prut! it all goes bad this day.'

"Poor man, I pitied him; and when the girls were gone, took just one more peep, to see if he survived it. He seemed to have thrown himself back in his chair, tired out, and sat there with his eyes shut till the clock struck two, when he jumped up, put his books in his pocket, as if ready for another lesson, and, taking little Tina, who had fallen asleep on the sofa, in his arms, he carried her quietly away. I fancy he has a hard life of it.

"Mrs. Kirke asked me if I wouldn't go down to the five o'clock dinner; and, feeling a little bit homesick, I thought I would, just to see what sort of people are under the same roof with me. So I made myself respectable, and tried to slip in behind Mrs. Kirke; but as she is short, and I'm tall, my efforts at concealment were rather a failure. She gave me a seat by her, and after my face cooled off, I plucked up courage, and looked about me. The long table was full, and every one intent on getting their dinner,—the gentlemen especially, who seemed to be eating on time, for they bolted in every sense of the word, vanishing as soon as they were done. There was the usual assortment of young men absorbed in themselves; young couples absorbed in each other; married ladies in their babies, and old gentlemen in politics. I don't think I shall care to have much to do with any of them, except one sweet-faced maiden lady, who looks as if she had something in her.

"Cast away at the very bottom of the table was the Professor, shouting answers to the questions of a very inquisitive, deaf old gentleman on one side, and talking philosophy with a Frenchman on the other. If Amy had been here, she'd have turned her back on him forever, because, sad to relate, he had a great appetite, and shovelled in his dinner in a manner which would have horrified 'her ladyship.' I didn't mind, for I like 'to see folks eat with a relish,' as Hannah 408 says, and the poor man must have needed a deal of food after teaching idiots all day.

"As I went upstairs after dinner, two of the young men were settling their hats before the hall-mirror, and I heard one say low to the other, 'Who's the new party?'

"'Governess, or something of that sort.'

"'What the deuce is she at our table for?'

"'Friend of the old lady's.'

"'Handsome head, but no style.'

"'Not a bit of it. Give us a light and come on.'

"I felt angry at first, and then I didn't care, for a governess is as good as a clerk, and I've got sense, if I haven't style, which is more than some people have, judging from the remarks of the elegant beings who clattered away, smoking like bad chimneys. I hate ordinary people!"

"Oh dear," thought Meg, "married life is very trying, and does need infinite patience, as well as love, as mother says." The word "mother" suggested other maternal counsels, given long ago, and received with unbelieving protests.

341 "John is a good man, but he has his faults, and you must learn to see and bear with them, remembering your own. He is very decided, but never will be obstinate, if you reason kindly, not oppose impatiently. He is very accurate, and particular about the truth—a good trait, though you call him 'fussy.' Never deceive him by look or word, Meg, and he will give you the confidence you deserve, the support you need. He has a temper, not like ours,—one flash, and then all over,—but the white, still anger, that is seldom stirred, but once kindled, is hard to quench. Be careful, very careful, not to wake this anger against yourself, for peace and happiness depend on keeping his respect. Watch yourself, be the first to ask pardon if you both err, and guard against the little piques, misunderstandings, and hasty words that often pave the way for bitter sorrow and regret."

These words came back to Meg, as she sat sewing in the sunset, especially the last. This was the first serious disagreement; her own hasty speeches sounded both silly and unkind, as she recalled them, her own anger looked childish now, and thoughts of poor John coming 342 home to such a scene quite melted her heart. She glanced at him with tears in her eyes, but he did not see them; she put down her work and got up, thinking, "I will be the first to say, 'Forgive me,'" but he did not seem to hear her; she went very slowly across the room, for pride was hard to swallow, and stood by him, but he did not turn his head. For a minute she felt as if she really couldn't do it; then came the thought, "This is the beginning, I'll do my part, and have nothing to reproach myself with," and stooping down, she softly kissed her husband on the forehead. Of course that settled it; the penitent kiss was better than a world of words, and John had her on his knee in a minute, saying tenderly,—

"It was too bad to laugh at the poor little jelly-pots. Forgive me, dear, I never will again!"

But he did, oh bless you, yes, hundreds of times, and so did Meg, both declaring that it was the sweetest jelly they ever made; for family peace was preserved in that little family jar.

After this, Meg had Mr. Scott to dinner by special invitation, and served him up a pleasant feast without a cooked wife for the first course; on which occasion she was so gay and gracious, and made everything go off so charmingly, that Mr. Scott told John he was a happy fellow, and shook his head over the hardships of bachelorhood all the way home.

In the autumn, new trials and experiences came to Meg. Sallie Moffat renewed her friendship, was always running out for a dish of gossip at the little house, or inviting "that poor dear" to come in and spend the day at the big house. It was pleasant, for in dull weather Meg often felt lonely; all were busy at home, John absent till night, and nothing to do but sew, or read, or potter about. So it naturally fell out that Meg got into the way of gadding and gossiping with her friend. Seeing Sallie's pretty things made her long for such, and pity herself because she had not got them. Sallie was very kind, and often offered her the coveted trifles; but Meg declined them, knowing that John wouldn't like it; and then this foolish little woman went and did what John disliked infinitely worse.

She knew her husband's income, and she loved to feel that he trusted her, not only with his happiness, but what some men seem to 343 value more,—his money. She knew where it was, was free to take what she liked, and all he asked was that she should keep account of every penny, pay bills once a month, and remember that she was a poor man's wife. Till now, she had done well, been prudent and exact, kept her little account-books neatly, and showed them to him monthly without fear. But that autumn the serpent got into Meg's paradise, and tempted her, like many a modern Eve, not with apples, but with dress. Meg didn't like to be pitied and made to feel poor; it irritated her, but she was ashamed to confess it, and now and then she tried to console herself by buying something pretty, so that Sallie needn't think she had to economize. She always felt wicked after it, for the pretty things were seldom necessaries; but then they cost so little, it wasn't worth worrying about; so the trifles increased unconsciously, and in the shopping excursions she was no longer a passive looker-on.

But the trifles cost more than one would imagine; and when she cast up her accounts at the end of the month, the sum total rather scared her. John was busy that month, and left the bills to her; the next month he was absent; but the third he had a grand quarterly settling up, and Meg never forgot it. A few days before she had done a dreadful thing, and it weighed upon her conscience. Sallie had been buying silks, and Meg longed for a new one,—just a handsome light one for parties, her black silk was so common, and thin things for evening wear were only proper for girls. Aunt March usually gave the sisters a present of twenty-five dollars apiece at New Year; that was only a month to wait, and here was a lovely violet silk going at a bargain, and she had the money, if she only dared to take it. John always said what was his was hers; but would he think it right to spend not only the prospective five-and-twenty, but another five-and-twenty out of the household fund? That was the question. Sallie had urged her to do it, had offered to loan the money, and with the best intentions in life, had tempted Meg beyond her strength. In an evil moment the shopman held up the lovely, shimmering folds, and said, "A bargain, I assure you, ma'am." She answered, "I'll take it;" and it was cut off and paid for, and Sallie had exulted, and she had laughed as if it were a thing of no consequence, and driven away, 344 feeling as if she had stolen something, and the police were after her.

When she got home, she tried to assuage the pangs of remorse by spreading forth the lovely silk; but it looked less silvery now, didn't become her, after all, and the words "fifty dollars" seemed stamped like a pattern down each breadth. She put it away; but it haunted her, not delightfully, as a new dress should, but dreadfully, like the ghost of a folly that was not easily laid. When John got out his books that night, Meg's heart sank, and for the first time in her married life, she was afraid of her husband. The kind, brown eyes looked as if they could be stern; and though he was unusually merry, she fancied he had found her out, but didn't mean to let her know it. The house-bills were all paid, the books all in order. John had praised her, and was undoing the old pocket-book which they called the "bank," when Meg, knowing that it was quite empty, stopped his hand, saying nervously,—

"You haven't seen my private expense book yet."

John never asked to see it; but she always insisted on his doing so, and used to enjoy his masculine amazement at the queer things women 345 wanted, and made him guess what "piping" was, demand fiercely the meaning of a "hug-me-tight," or wonder how a little thing composed of three rosebuds, a bit of velvet, and a pair of strings, could possibly be a bonnet, and cost five or six dollars. That night he looked as if he would like the fun of quizzing her figures and pretending to be horrified at her extravagance, as he often did, being particularly proud of his prudent wife.

The little book was brought slowly out, and laid down before him. Meg got behind his chair under pretence of smoothing the wrinkles out of his tired forehead, and standing there, she said, with her panic increasing with every word,—

"John, dear, I'm ashamed to show you my book, for I've really been dreadfully extravagant lately. I go about so much I must have things, you know, and Sallie advised my getting it, so I did; and my New-Year's money will partly pay for it: but I was sorry after I'd done it, for I knew you'd think it wrong in me."

John laughed, and drew her round beside him, saying good-humoredly, "Don't go and hide. I won't beat you if you have got a pair of killing boots; I'm rather proud of my wife's feet, and don't mind if she does pay eight or nine dollars for her boots, if they are good ones."

That had been one of her last "trifles," and John's eye had fallen on it as he spoke. "Oh, what will he say when he comes to that awful fifty dollars!" thought Meg, with a shiver.

"It's worse than boots, it's a silk dress," she said, with the calmness of desperation, for she wanted the worst over.

"Well, dear, what is the 'dem'd total,' as Mr. Mantalini says?"

That didn't sound like John, and she knew he was looking up at her with the straightforward look that she had always been ready to meet and answer with one as frank till now. She turned the page and her head at the same time, pointing to the sum which would have been bad enough without the fifty, but which was appalling to her with that added. For a minute the room was very still; then John said slowly,—but she could feel it cost him an effort to express no displeasure,—

"Well, I don't know that fifty is much for a dress, with all the furbelows and notions you have to have to finish it off these days."

346 "It isn't made or trimmed," sighed Meg faintly, for a sudden recollection of the cost still to be incurred quite overwhelmed her.

"Twenty-five yards of silk seems a good deal to cover one small woman, but I've no doubt my wife will look as fine as Ned Moffat's when she gets it on," said John dryly.

"I know you are angry, John, but I can't help it. I don't mean to waste your money, and I didn't think those little things would count up so. I can't resist them when I see Sallie buying all she wants, and pitying me because I don't. I try to be contented, but it is hard, and I'm tired of being poor."

The last words were spoken so low she thought he did not hear them, but he did, and they wounded him deeply, for he had denied himself many pleasures for Meg's sake. She could have bitten her tongue out the minute she had said it, for John pushed the books away, and got up, saying, with a little quiver in his voice, "I was afraid of this; I do my best, Meg." If he had scolded her, or even shaken her, it would not have broken her heart like those few words. She ran to him and held him close, crying, with repentant tears, "O John, my dear, kind, hard-working boy, I didn't mean it! It was so wicked, so untrue and ungrateful, how could I say it! Oh, how could I say it!"

He was very kind, forgave her readily, and did not utter one reproach; but Meg knew that she had done and said a thing which would not be forgotten soon, although he might never allude to it again. She had promised to love him for better for worse; and then she, his wife, had reproached him with his poverty, after spending his earnings recklessly. It was dreadful; and the worst of it was John went on so quietly afterward, just as if nothing had happened, except that he stayed in town later, and worked at night when she had gone to cry herself to sleep. A week of remorse nearly made Meg sick; and the discovery that John had countermanded the order for his new great-coat reduced her to a state of despair which was pathetic to behold. He had simply said, in answer to her surprised inquiries as to the change, "I can't afford it, my dear."

Meg said no more, but a few minutes after he found her in the hall, with her face buried in the old great-coat, crying as if her heart would break.

347 They had a long talk that night, and Meg learned to love her husband better for his poverty, because it seemed to have made a man of him, given him the strength and courage to fight his own way, and taught him a tender patience with which to bear and comfort the natural longings and failures of those he loved.

Next day she put her pride in her pocket, went to Sallie, told the truth, and asked her to buy the silk as a favor. The good-natured Mrs. Moffat willingly did so, and had the delicacy not to make her a present of it immediately afterward. Then Meg ordered home the great-coat, and, when John arrived, she put it on, and asked him how he liked her new silk gown. One can imagine what answer he made, how he received his present, and what a blissful state of things ensued. John came home early, Meg gadded no more; and that great-coat was put on in the morning by a very happy husband, and taken off at night by a most devoted little wife. So the year rolled round, and at midsummer there came to Meg a new experience,—the deepest and tenderest of a woman's life.

Laurie came sneaking into the kitchen of the Dove-cote, one Saturday, with an excited face, and was received with the clash of cymbals; for Hannah clapped her hands with a saucepan in one and the cover in the other.

"How's the little mamma? Where is everybody? Why didn't you tell me before I came home?" began Laurie, in a loud whisper.

"Happy as a queen, the dear! Every soul of 'em is upstairs a worshipin'; we didn't want no hurrycanes round. Now you go into the parlor, and I'll send 'em down to you," with which somewhat involved reply Hannah vanished, chuckling ecstatically.

Presently Jo appeared, proudly bearing a flannel bundle laid forth upon a large pillow. Jo's face was very sober, but her eyes twinkled, and there was an odd sound in her voice of repressed emotion of some sort.

"Shut your eyes and hold out your arms," she said invitingly.

Laurie backed precipitately into a corner, and put his hands behind him with an imploring gesture: "No, thank you, I'd rather not. I shall drop it or smash it, as sure as fate."

"Then you sha'n't see your nevvy," said Jo decidedly, turning as if to go.

348 "I will, I will! only you must be responsible for damages;" and, obeying orders, Laurie heroically shut his eyes while something was put into his arms. A peal of laughter from Jo, Amy, Mrs. March, Hannah, and John caused him to open them the next minute, to find himself invested with two babies instead of one.

No wonder they laughed, for the expression of his face was droll enough to convulse a Quaker, as he stood and stared wildly from the unconscious innocents to the hilarious spectators, with such dismay that Jo sat down on the floor and screamed.

"Twins, by Jupiter!" was all he said for a minute; then, turning to the women with an appealing look that was comically piteous, he added, "Take 'em quick, somebody! I'm going to laugh, and I shall drop 'em."

John rescued his babies, and marched up and down, with one on each arm, as if already initiated into the mysteries of baby-tending, while Laurie laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks.

349 "It's the best joke of the season, isn't it? I wouldn't have you told, for I set my heart on surprising you, and I flatter myself I've done it," said Jo, when she got her breath.

"I never was more staggered in my life. Isn't it fun? Are they boys? What are you going to name them? Let's have another look. Hold me up, Jo; for upon my life it's one too many for me," returned Laurie, regarding the infants with the air of a big, benevolent Newfoundland looking at a pair of infantile kittens.

"Boy and girl. Aren't they beauties?" said the proud papa, beaming upon the little, red squirmers as if they were unfledged angels.

"Most remarkable children I ever saw. Which is which?" and Laurie bent like a well-sweep to examine the prodigies.

"Amy put a blue ribbon on the boy and a pink on the girl, French fashion, so you can always tell. Besides, one has blue eyes and one brown. Kiss them, Uncle Teddy," said wicked Jo.

"I'm afraid they mightn't like it," began Laurie, with unusual timidity in such matters.

"Of course they will; they are used to it now. Do it this minute, sir!" commanded Jo, fearing he might propose a proxy.

Laurie screwed up his face, and obeyed with a gingerly peck at each little cheek that produced another laugh, and made the babies squeal.

"There, I knew they didn't like it! That's the boy; see him kick; he hits out with his fists like a good one. Now then, young Brooke, pitch into a man of your own size, will you?" cried Laurie, delighted with a poke in the face from a tiny fist, flapping aimlessly about.

"He's to be named John Laurence, and the girl Margaret, after mother and grandmother. We shall call her Daisy, so as not to have two Megs, and I suppose the mannie will be Jack, unless we find a better name," said Amy, with aunt-like interest.

"Name him Demijohn, and call him 'Demi' for short," said Laurie.

"Daisy and Demi,—just the thing! I knew Teddy would do it," cried Jo, clapping her hands.

Teddy certainly had done it that time, for the babies were "Daisy" and "Demi" to the end of the chapter.

350

XXIX.

CALLS.

"Come, Jo, it's time."

"For what?"

"You don't mean to say you have forgotten that you promised to make half a dozen calls with me to-day?"

"I've done a good many rash and foolish things in my life, but I don't think I ever was mad enough to say I'd make six calls in one day, when a single one upsets me for a week."

"Yes, you did; it was a bargain between us. I was to finish the crayon of Beth for you, and you were to go properly with me, and return our neighbors' visits."

"If it was fair—that was in the bond; and I stand to the letter of my bond, Shylock. There is a pile of clouds in the east; it's not fair, and I don't go."

"Now, that's shirking. It's a lovely day, no prospect of rain, and you pride yourself on keeping promises; so be honorable; come and do your duty, and then be at peace for another six months."

351 At that minute Jo was particularly absorbed in dressmaking; for she was mantua-maker general to the family, and took especial credit to herself because she could use a needle as well as a pen. It was very provoking to be arrested in the act of a first trying-on, and ordered out to make calls in her best array, on a warm July day. She hated calls of the formal sort, and never made any till Amy compelled her with a bargain, bribe, or promise. In the present instance, there was no escape; and having clashed her scissors rebelliously, while protesting that she smelt thunder, she gave in, put away her work, and taking up her hat and gloves with an air of resignation, told Amy the victim was ready.

"Jo March, you are perverse enough to provoke a saint! You don't intend to make calls in that state, I hope," cried Amy, surveying her with amazement.

"Why not? I'm neat and cool and comfortable; quite proper for a dusty walk on a warm day. If people care more for my clothes than they do for me, I don't wish to see them. You can dress for both, and be as elegant as you please: it pays for you to be fine; it doesn't for me, and furbelows only worry me."

"Oh dear!" sighed Amy; "now she's in a contrary fit, and will drive me distracted before I can get her properly ready. I'm sure it's no pleasure to me to go to-day, but it's a debt we owe society, and there's no one to pay it but you and me. I'll do anything for you, Jo, if you'll only dress yourself nicely, and come and help me do the civil. You can talk so well, look so aristocratic in your best things, and behave so beautifully, if you try, that I'm proud of you. I'm afraid to go alone; do come and take care of me."

"You're an artful little puss to flatter and wheedle your cross old sister in that way. The idea of my being aristocratic and well-bred, and your being afraid to go anywhere alone! I don't know which is the most absurd. Well, I'll go if I must, and do my best. You shall be commander of the expedition, and I'll obey blindly; will that satisfy you?" said Jo, with a sudden change from perversity to lamb-like submission.

"You're a perfect cherub! Now put on all your best things, and I'll tell you how to behave at each place, so that you will make a 352 good impression. I want people to like you, and they would if you'd only try to be a little more agreeable. Do your hair the pretty way, and put the pink rose in your bonnet; it's becoming, and you look too sober in your plain suit. Take your light gloves and the embroidered handkerchief. We'll stop at Meg's, and borrow her white sunshade, and then you can have my dove-colored one."

While Amy dressed, she issued her orders, and Jo obeyed them; not without entering her protest, however, for she sighed as she rustled into her new organdie, frowned darkly at herself as she tied her bonnet strings in an irreproachable bow, wrestled viciously with pins as she put on her collar, wrinkled up her features generally as she shook out the handkerchief, whose embroidery was as irritating to her nose as the present mission was to her feelings; and when she had squeezed her hands into tight gloves with three buttons and a tassel, as the last touch of elegance, she turned to Amy with an imbecile expression of countenance, saying meekly,—

"I'm perfectly miserable; but if you consider me presentable, I die happy."

"You are highly satisfactory; turn slowly round, and let me get a careful view." Jo revolved, and Amy gave a touch here and there, then fell back, with her head on one side, observing graciously, "Yes, you'll do; your head is all I could ask, for that white bonnet with the rose is quite ravishing. Hold back your shoulders, and carry your hands easily, no matter if your gloves do pinch. There's one thing you can do well, Jo, that is, wear a shawl—I can't; but it's very nice to see you, and I'm so glad Aunt March gave you that lovely one; it's simple, but handsome, and those folds over the arm are really artistic. Is the point of my mantle in the middle, and have I looped my dress evenly? I like to show my boots, for my feet are pretty, though my nose isn't."

"You are a thing of beauty and a joy forever," said Jo, looking through her hand with the air of a connoisseur at the blue feather against the gold hair. "Am I to drag my best dress through the dust, or loop it up, please, ma'am?"

"Hold it up when you walk, but drop it in the house; the sweeping style suits you best, and you must learn to trail your skirts gracefully. 353 You haven't half buttoned one cuff; do it at once. You'll never look finished if you are not careful about the little details, for they make up the pleasing whole."

Jo sighed, and proceeded to burst the buttons off her glove, in doing up her cuff; but at last both were ready, and sailed away, looking as "pretty as picters," Hannah said, as she hung out of the upper window to watch them.

"Now, Jo dear, the Chesters consider themselves very elegant people, so I want you to put on your best deportment. Don't make any of your abrupt remarks, or do anything odd, will you? Just be calm, cool, and quiet,—that's safe and ladylike; and you can easily do it for fifteen minutes," said Amy, as they approached the first place, having borrowed the white parasol and been inspected by Meg, with a baby on each arm.

"Let me see. 'Calm, cool, and quiet,'—yes, I think I can promise that. I've played the part of a prim young lady on the stage, and I'll try it off. My powers are great, as you shall see; so be easy in your mind, my child."

Amy looked relieved, but naughty Jo took her at her word; for, during the first call, she sat with every limb gracefully composed, every fold correctly draped, calm as a summer sea, cool as a snow-bank, and as silent as a sphinx. In vain Mrs. Chester alluded to her "charming novel," and the Misses Chester introduced parties, picnics, the opera, and the fashions; each and all were answered by a smile, a bow, and a demure "Yes" or "No," with the chill on. In vain Amy telegraphed the word "Talk," tried to draw her out, and administered covert pokes with her foot. Jo sat as if blandly unconscious of it all, with deportment like Maud's face, "icily regular, splendidly null."

"What a haughty, uninteresting creature that oldest Miss March is!" was the unfortunately audible remark of one of the ladies, as the door closed upon their guests. Jo laughed noiselessly all through the hall, but Amy looked disgusted at the failure of her instructions, and very naturally laid the blame upon Jo.

"How could you mistake me so? I merely meant you to be properly dignified and composed, and you made yourself a perfect 354 stock and stone. Try to be sociable at the Lambs', gossip as other girls do, and be interested in dress and flirtations and whatever nonsense comes up. They move in the best society, are valuable persons for us to know, and I wouldn't fail to make a good impression there for anything."

"I'll be agreeable; I'll gossip and giggle, and have horrors and raptures over any trifle you like. I rather enjoy this, and now I'll imitate what is called 'a charming girl;' I can do it, for I have May Chester as a model, and I'll improve upon her. See if the Lambs don't say, 'What a lively, nice creature that Jo March is!'"

Amy felt anxious, as well she might, for when Jo turned freakish there was no knowing where she would stop. Amy's face was a study when she saw her sister skim into the next drawing-room, kiss all the young ladies with effusion, beam graciously upon the young gentlemen, and join in the chat with a spirit which amazed the beholder. Amy was taken possession of by Mrs. Lamb, with whom she was a favorite, and forced to hear a long account of Lucretia's last attack, while three delightful young gentlemen hovered near, waiting for a pause when they might rush in and rescue her. So situated, she was powerless to check Jo, who seemed possessed by a spirit of mischief, and talked away as volubly as the old lady. A knot of heads gathered about her, and Amy strained her ears to hear what was going on; for broken sentences filled her with alarm, round eyes and uplifted hands tormented her with curiosity, and frequent peals of laughter made her wild to share the fun. One may imagine her suffering on overhearing fragments of this sort of conversation:—

"She rides splendidly,—who taught her?"

"No one; she used to practise mounting, holding the reins, and sitting straight on an old saddle in a tree. Now she rides anything, for she doesn't know what fear is, and the stable-man lets her have horses cheap, because she trains them to carry ladies so well. She has such a passion for it, I often tell her if everything else fails she can be a horse-breaker, and get her living so."

At this awful speech Amy contained herself with difficulty, for the impression was being given that she was rather a fast young lady, which was her especial aversion. But what could she do? for the 355 old lady was in the middle of her story, and long before it was done Jo was off again, making more droll revelations, and committing still more fearful blunders.

"Yes, Amy was in despair that day, for all the good beasts were gone, and of three left, one was lame, one blind, and the other so balky that you had to put dirt in his mouth before he would start. Nice animal for a pleasure party, wasn't it?"

"Which did she choose?" asked one of the laughing gentlemen, who enjoyed the subject.

"None of them; she heard of a young horse at the farmhouse over the river, and, though a lady had never ridden him, she resolved to try, because he was handsome and spirited. Her struggles were really pathetic; there was no one to bring the horse to the saddle, so she took the saddle to the horse. My dear creature, she actually rowed it over the river, put it on her head, and marched up to the barn to the utter amazement of the old man!"

"Did she ride the horse?"

356 "Of course she did, and had a capital time. I expected to see her brought home in fragments, but she managed him perfectly, and was the life of the party."

"Well, I call that plucky!" and young Mr. Lamb turned an approving glance upon Amy, wondering what his mother could be saying to make the girl look so red and uncomfortable.

She was still redder and more uncomfortable a moment after, when a sudden turn in the conversation introduced the subject of dress. One of the young ladies asked Jo where she got the pretty drab hat she wore to the picnic; and stupid Jo, instead of mentioning the place where it was bought two years ago, must needs answer, with unnecessary frankness, "Oh, Amy painted it; you can't buy those soft shades, so we paint ours any color we like. It's a great comfort to have an artistic sister."

"Isn't that an original idea?" cried Miss Lamb, who found Jo great fun.

"That's nothing compared to some of her brilliant performances. There's nothing the child can't do. Why, she wanted a pair of blue boots for Sallie's party, so she just painted her soiled white ones the loveliest shade of sky-blue you ever saw, and they looked exactly like satin," added Jo, with an air of pride in her sister's accomplishments that exasperated Amy till she felt that it would be a relief to throw her card-case at her.

"We read a story of yours the other day, and enjoyed it very much," observed the elder Miss Lamb, wishing to compliment the literary lady, who did not look the character just then, it must be confessed.

Any mention of her "works" always had a bad effect upon Jo, who either grew rigid and looked offended, or changed the subject with a brusque remark, as now. "Sorry you could find nothing better to read. I write that rubbish because it sells, and ordinary people like it. Are you going to New York this winter?"

As Miss Lamb had "enjoyed" the story, this speech was not exactly grateful or complimentary. The minute it was made Jo saw her mistake; but, fearing to make the matter worse, suddenly remembered that it was for her to make the first move toward departure, and did so with an abruptness that left three people with half-finished sentences in their mouths.

357 "Amy, we must go. Good-by, dear; do come and see us; we are pining for a visit. I don't dare to ask you, Mr. Lamb; but if you should come, I don't think I shall have the heart to send you away."

Jo said this with such a droll imitation of May Chester's gushing style that Amy got out of the room as rapidly as possible, feeling a strong desire to laugh and cry at the same time.

"Didn't I do that well?" asked Jo, with a satisfied air, as they walked away.

"Nothing could have been worse," was Amy's crushing reply. "What possessed you to tell those stories about my saddle, and the hats and boots, and all the rest of it?"

"Why, it's funny, and amuses people. They know we are poor, so it's no use pretending that we have grooms, buy three or four hats a season, and have things as easy and fine as they do."

"You needn't go and tell them all our little shifts, and expose our poverty in that perfectly unnecessary way. You haven't a bit of proper pride, and never will learn when to hold your tongue and when to speak," said Amy despairingly.

Poor Jo looked abashed, and silently chafed the end of her nose with the stiff handkerchief, as if performing a penance for her misdemeanors.

"How shall I behave here?" she asked, as they approached the third mansion.

"Just as you please; I wash my hands of you," was Amy's short answer.

"Then I'll enjoy myself. The boys are at home, and we'll have a comfortable time. Goodness knows I need a little change, for elegance has a bad effect upon my constitution," returned Jo gruffly, being disturbed by her failures to suit.

An enthusiastic welcome from three big boys and several pretty children speedily soothed her ruffled feelings; and, leaving Amy to entertain the hostess and Mr. Tudor, who happened to be calling likewise, Jo devoted herself to the young folks, and found the change refreshing. She listened to college stories with deep interest, caressed pointers and poodles without a murmur, agreed heartily that "Tom Brown was a brick," regardless of the improper form of praise; and 358 when one lad proposed a visit to his turtle-tank, she went with an alacrity which caused mamma to smile upon her, as that motherly lady settled the cap which was left in a ruinous condition by filial hugs, bear-like but affectionate, and dearer to her than the most faultless coiffure from the hands of an inspired Frenchwoman.

Leaving her sister to her own devices, Amy proceeded to enjoy herself to her heart's content. Mr. Tudor's uncle had married an English lady who was third cousin to a living lord, and Amy regarded the whole family with great respect; for, in spite of her American birth and breeding, she possessed that reverence for titles which haunts the best of us,—that unacknowledged loyalty to the early faith in kings which set the most democratic nation under the sun in a ferment at the coming of a royal yellow-haired laddie, some years ago, and which still has something to do with the love the young country bears the old, like that of a big son for an imperious little mother, who held him while she could, and let him go with a farewell scolding when he rebelled. But even the satisfaction of talking with a distant connection of the British nobility did not render Amy forgetful of time; and when the proper number of minutes had passed, she reluctantly tore herself from this aristocratic society, and looked about for Jo, fervently hoping that her incorrigible sister would not be found in any position which should bring disgrace upon the name of March.

It might have been worse, but Amy considered it bad; for Jo sat on the grass, with an encampment of boys about her, and a dirty-footed dog reposing on the skirt of her state and festival dress, as she related one of Laurie's pranks to her admiring audience. One small child was poking turtles with Amy's cherished parasol, a second was eating gingerbread over Jo's best bonnet, and a third playing ball with her gloves. But all were enjoying themselves; and when Jo collected her damaged property to go, her escort accompanied her, begging her to come again, "it was such fun to hear about Laurie's larks."

"Capital boys, aren't they? I feel quite young and brisk again after that," said Jo, strolling along with her hands behind her, partly from habit, partly to conceal the bespattered parasol.

"Why do you always avoid Mr. Tudor?" asked Amy, wisely refraining from any comment upon Jo's dilapidated appearance.

359 "Don't like him; he puts on airs, snubs his sisters, worries his father, and doesn't speak respectfully of his mother. Laurie says he is fast, and I don't consider him a desirable acquaintance; so I let him alone."

"You might treat him civilly, at least. You gave him a cool nod; and just now you bowed and smiled in the politest way to Tommy Chamberlain, whose father keeps a grocery store. If you had just reversed the nod and the bow, it would have been right," said Amy reprovingly.

"No, it wouldn't," returned perverse Jo; "I neither like, respect, nor admire Tudor, though his grandfather's uncle's nephew's niece was third cousin to a lord. Tommy is poor and bashful and good and very clever; I think well of him, and like to show that I do, for he is a gentleman in spite of the brown-paper parcels."

"It's no use trying to argue with you," began Amy.

"Not the least, my dear," interrupted Jo; "so let us look amiable, and drop a card here, as the Kings are evidently out, for which I'm deeply grateful."

The family card-case having done its duty, the girls walked on, and Jo uttered another thanksgiving on reaching the fifth house, and being told that the young ladies were engaged.

360 "Now let us go home, and never mind Aunt March to-day. We can run down there any time, and it's really a pity to trail through the dust in our best bibs and tuckers, when we are tired and cross."

"Speak for yourself, if you please. Aunt likes to have us pay her the compliment of coming in style, and making a formal call; it's a little thing to do, but it gives her pleasure, and I don't believe it will hurt your things half so much as letting dirty dogs and clumping boys spoil them. Stoop down, and let me take the crumbs off of your bonnet."

"What a good girl you are, Amy!" said Jo, with a repentant glance from her own damaged costume to that of her sister, which was fresh and spotless still. "I wish it was as easy for me to do little things to please people as it is for you. I think of them, but it takes too much time to do them; so I wait for a chance to confer a great favor, and let the small ones slip; but they tell best in the end, I fancy."

Amy smiled, and was mollified at once, saying with a maternal air,—

"Women should learn to be agreeable, particularly poor ones; for they have no other way of repaying the kindnesses they receive. If you'd remember that, and practise it, you'd be better liked than I am, because there is more of you."

"I'm a crotchety old thing, and always shall be, but I'm willing to own that you are right; only it's easier for me to risk my life for a person than to be pleasant to him when I don't feel like it. It's a great misfortune to have such strong likes and dislikes, isn't it?"

"It's a greater not to be able to hide them. I don't mind saying that I don't approve of Tudor any more than you do; but I'm not called upon to tell him so; neither are you, and there is no use in making yourself disagreeable because he is."

"But I think girls ought to show when they disapprove of young men; and how can they do it except by their manners? Preaching does not do any good, as I know to my sorrow, since I've had Teddy to manage; but there are many little ways in which I can influence him without a word, and I say we ought to do it to others if we can."

"Teddy is a remarkable boy, and can't be taken as a sample of other boys," said Amy, in a tone of solemn conviction, which would 361 have convulsed the "remarkable boy," if he had heard it. "If we were belles, or women of wealth and position, we might do something, perhaps; but for us to frown at one set of young gentlemen because we don't approve of them, and smile upon another set because we do, wouldn't have a particle of effect, and we should only be considered odd and puritanical."

"So we are to countenance things and people which we detest, merely because we are not belles and millionaires, are we? That's a nice sort of morality."

"I can't argue about it, I only know that it's the way of the world; and people who set themselves against it only get laughed at for their pains. I don't like reformers, and I hope you will never try to be one."

"I do like them, and I shall be one if I can; for in spite of the laughing, the world would never get on without them. We can't agree about that, for you belong to the old set, and I to the new: you will get on the best, but I shall have the liveliest time of it. I should rather enjoy the brickbats and hooting, I think."

"Well, compose yourself now, and don't worry aunt with your new ideas."

"I'll try not to, but I'm always possessed to burst out with some particularly blunt speech or revolutionary sentiment before her; it's my doom, and I can't help it."

They found Aunt Carrol with the old lady, both absorbed in some very interesting subject; but they dropped it as the girls came in, with a conscious look which betrayed that they had been talking about their nieces. Jo was not in a good humor, and the perverse fit returned; but Amy, who had virtuously done her duty, kept her temper, and pleased everybody, was in a most angelic frame of mind. This amiable spirit was felt at once, and both the aunts "my deared" her affectionately, looking what they afterwards said emphatically,—"That child improves every day."

"Are you going to help about the fair, dear?" asked Mrs. Carrol, as Amy sat down beside her with the confiding air elderly people like so well in the young.

"Yes, aunt. Mrs. Chester asked me if I would, and I offered to tend a table, as I have nothing but my time to give."

362 "I'm not," put in Jo decidedly. "I hate to be patronized, and the Chesters think it's a great favor to allow us to help with their highly connected fair. I wonder you consented, Amy: they only want you to work."

"I am willing to work: it's for the freedmen as well as the Chesters, and I think it very kind of them to let me share the labor and the fun. Patronage does not trouble me when it is well meant."

"Quite right and proper. I like your grateful spirit, my dear; it's a pleasure to help people who appreciate our efforts: some do not, and that is trying," observed Aunt March, looking over her spectacles at Jo, who sat apart, rocking herself, with a somewhat morose expression.

If Jo had only known what a great happiness was wavering in the balance for one of them, she would have turned dovelike in a minute; but, unfortunately, we don't have windows in our breasts, and cannot see what goes on in the minds of our friends; better for us that we cannot as a general thing, but now and then it would be such a comfort, such a saving of time and temper. By her next speech, Jo deprived herself of several years of pleasure, and received a timely lesson in the art of holding her tongue.

363 "I don't like favors; they oppress and make me feel like a slave. I'd rather do everything for myself, and be perfectly independent."

"Ahem!" coughed Aunt Carrol softly, with a look at Aunt March.

"I told you so," said Aunt March, with a decided nod to Aunt Carrol.

Mercifully unconscious of what she had done, Jo sat with her nose in the air, and a revolutionary aspect which was anything but inviting.

"Do you speak French, dear?" asked Mrs. Carrol, laying her hand on Amy's.

"Pretty well, thanks to Aunt March, who lets Esther talk to me as often as I like," replied Amy, with a grateful look, which caused the old lady to smile affably.

"How are you about languages?" asked Mrs. Carrol of Jo.

"Don't know a word; I'm very stupid about studying anything; can't bear French, it's such a slippery, silly sort of language," was the brusque reply.

Another look passed between the ladies, and Aunt March said to Amy, "You are quite strong and well, now, dear, I believe? Eyes don't trouble you any more, do they?"

"Not at all, thank you, ma'am. I'm very well, and mean to do great things next winter, so that I may be ready for Rome, whenever that joyful time arrives."

"Good girl! You deserve to go, and I'm sure you will some day," said Aunt March, with an approving pat on the head, as Amy picked up her ball for her.

"Cross-patch, draw the latch,

Sit by the fire and spin,"

squalled Polly, bending down from his perch on the back of her chair to peep into Jo's face, with such a comical air of impertinent inquiry that it was impossible to help laughing.

"Most observing bird," said the old lady.

"Come and take a walk, my dear?" cried Polly, hopping toward the china-closet, with a look suggestive of lump-sugar.

"Thank you, I will. Come, Amy;" and Jo brought the visit to an end, feeling more strongly than ever that calls did have a bad effect 364 upon her constitution. She shook hands in a gentlemanly manner, but Amy kissed both the aunts, and the girls departed, leaving behind them the impression of shadow and sunshine; which impression caused Aunt March to say, as they vanished,—

"You'd better do it, Mary; I'll supply the money," and Aunt Carrol to reply decidedly, "I certainly will, if her father and mother consent."

365

XXX.

CONSEQUENCES.

Mrs. Chester's fair was so very elegant and select that it was considered a great honor by the young ladies of the neighborhood to be invited to take a table, and every one was much interested in the matter. Amy was asked, but Jo was not, which was fortunate for all parties, as her elbows were decidedly akimbo at this period of her life, and it took a good many hard knocks to teach her how to get on easily. The "haughty, uninteresting creature" was let severely alone; but Amy's talent and taste were duly complimented by the offer of the art-table, and she exerted herself to prepare and secure appropriate and valuable contributions to it.

Everything went on smoothly till the day before the fair opened; then there occurred one of the little skirmishes which it is almost impossible 366 to avoid, when some five and twenty women, old and young, with all their private piques and prejudices, try to work together.

May Chester was rather jealous of Amy because the latter was a greater favorite than herself, and, just at this time, several trifling circumstances occurred to increase the feeling. Amy's dainty pen-and-ink work entirely eclipsed May's painted vases,—that was one thorn; then the all-conquering Tudor had danced four times with Amy, at a late party, and only once with May,—that was thorn number two; but the chief grievance that rankled in her soul, and gave her an excuse for her unfriendly conduct, was a rumor which some obliging gossip had whispered to her, that the March girls had made fun of her at the Lambs'. All the blame of this should have fallen upon Jo, for her naughty imitation had been too lifelike to escape detection, and the frolicsome Lambs had permitted the joke to escape. No hint of this had reached the culprits, however, and Amy's dismay can be imagined, when, the very evening before the fair, as she was putting the last touches to her pretty table, Mrs. Chester, who, of course, resented the supposed ridicule of her daughter, said, in a bland tone, but with a cold look,—

"I find, dear, that there is some feeling among the young ladies about my giving this table to any one but my girls. As this is the most prominent, and some say the most attractive table of all, and they are the chief getters-up of the fair, it is thought best for them to take this place. I'm sorry, but I know you are too sincerely interested in the cause to mind a little personal disappointment, and you shall have another table if you like."

Mrs. Chester had fancied beforehand that it would be easy to deliver this little speech; but when the time came, she found it rather difficult to utter it naturally, with Amy's unsuspicious eyes looking straight at her, full of surprise and trouble.

Amy felt that there was something behind this, but could not guess what, and said quietly, feeling hurt, and showing that she did,—

"Perhaps you had rather I took no table at all?"

"Now, my dear, don't have any ill feeling, I beg; it's merely a matter of expediency, you see; my girls will naturally take the lead, and this table is considered their proper place. I think it very appropriate 367 to you, and feel very grateful for your efforts to make it so pretty; but we must give up our private wishes, of course, and I will see that you have a good place elsewhere. Wouldn't you like the flower-table? The little girls undertook it, but they are discouraged. You could make a charming thing of it, and the flower-table is always attractive, you know."

"Especially to gentlemen," added May, with a look which enlightened Amy as to one cause of her sudden fall from favor. She colored angrily, but took no other notice of that girlish sarcasm, and answered, with unexpected amiability,—

"It shall be as you please, Mrs. Chester. I'll give up my place here at once, and attend to the flowers, if you like."

"You can put your own things on your own table, if you prefer," began May, feeling a little conscience-stricken, as she looked at the pretty racks, the painted shells, and quaint illuminations Amy had so carefully made and so gracefully arranged. She meant it kindly, but Amy mistook her meaning, and said quickly,—

"Oh, certainly, if they are in your way;" and sweeping her contributions into her apron, pell-mell, she walked off, feeling that herself and her works of art had been insulted past forgiveness.

"Now she's mad. Oh, dear, I wish I hadn't asked you to speak, mamma," said May, looking disconsolately at the empty spaces on her table.

"Girls' quarrels are soon over," returned her mother, feeling a trifle ashamed of her own part in this one, as well she might.

The little girls hailed Amy and her treasures with delight, which cordial reception somewhat soothed her perturbed spirit, and she fell to work, determined to succeed florally, if she could not artistically. But everything seemed against her: it was late, and she was tired; every one was too busy with their own affairs to help her; and the little girls were only hindrances, for the dears fussed and chattered like so many magpies, making a great deal of confusion in their artless efforts to preserve the most perfect order. The evergreen arch wouldn't stay firm after she got it up, but wiggled and threatened to tumble down on her head when the hanging baskets were filled; her best tile got a splash of water, which left a sepia tear on the Cupid's 368 cheek; she bruised her hands with hammering, and got cold working in a draught, which last affliction filled her with apprehensions for the morrow. Any girl-reader who has suffered like afflictions will sympathize with poor Amy, and wish her well through with her task.

There was great indignation at home when she told her story that evening. Her mother said it was a shame, but told her she had done right; Beth declared she wouldn't go to the fair at all; and Jo demanded why she didn't take all her pretty things and leave those mean people to get on without her.

"Because they are mean is no reason why I should be. I hate such things, and though I think I've a right to be hurt, I don't intend to show it. They will feel that more than angry speeches or huffy actions, won't they, Marmee?"

"That's the right spirit, my dear; a kiss for a blow is always best, though it's not very easy to give it sometimes," said her mother, with the air of one who had learned the difference between preaching and practising.

In spite of various very natural temptations to resent and retaliate, Amy adhered to her resolution all the next day, bent on conquering her enemy by kindness. She began well, thanks to a silent reminder that came to her unexpectedly, but most opportunely. As she arranged her table that morning, while the little girls were in an ante-room filling the baskets, she took up her pet production,—a little book, the antique cover of which her father had found among his treasures, and in which, on leaves of vellum, she had beautifully illuminated different texts. As she turned the pages, rich in dainty devices, with very pardonable pride, her eye fell upon one verse that made her stop and think. Framed in a brilliant scroll-work of scarlet, blue, and gold, with little spirits of good-will helping one another up and down among the thorns and flowers, were the words, "Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself."

"I ought, but I don't," thought Amy, as her eye went from the bright page to May's discontented face behind the big vases, that could not hide the vacancies her pretty work had once filled. Amy stood a minute, turning the leaves in her hand, reading on each some sweet rebuke for all heart-burnings and uncharitableness of spirit. 369 Many wise and true sermons are preached us every day by unconscious ministers in street, school, office, or home; even a fair-table may become a pulpit, if it can offer the good and helpful words which are never out of season. Amy's conscience preached her a little sermon from that text, then and there; and she did what many of us do not always do,—took the sermon to heart, and straightway put it in practice.

A group of girls were standing about May's table, admiring the pretty things, and talking over the change of saleswomen. They dropped their voices, but Amy knew they were speaking of her, hearing one side of the story, and judging accordingly. It was not pleasant, but a better spirit had come over her, and presently a chance offered for proving it. She heard May say sorrowfully,—

"It's too bad, for there is no time to make other things, and I don't want to fill up with odds and ends. The table was just complete then: now it's spoilt."

"I dare say she'd put them back if you asked her," suggested some one.

"How could I after all the fuss?" began May, but she did not finish, for Amy's voice came across the hall, saying pleasantly,—

"You may have them, and welcome, without asking, if you want them. I was just thinking I'd offer to put them back, for they belong to your table rather than mine. Here they are; please take them, and forgive me if I was hasty in carrying them away last night."

As she spoke, Amy returned her contribution, with a nod and a smile, and hurried away again, feeling that it was easier to do a friendly thing than it was to stay and be thanked for it.

"Now, I call that lovely of her, don't you?" cried one girl.

May's answer was inaudible; but another young lady, whose temper was evidently a little soured by making lemonade, added, with a disagreeable laugh, "Very lovely; for she knew she wouldn't sell them at her own table."

Now, that was hard; when we make little sacrifices we like to have them appreciated, at least; and for a minute Amy was sorry she had done it, feeling that virtue was not always its own reward. But it is,—as she presently discovered; for her spirits began to rise, and 370 her table to blossom under her skilful hands; the girls were very kind, and that one little act seemed to have cleared the atmosphere amazingly.

It was a very long day, and a hard one to Amy, as she sat behind her table, often quite alone, for the little girls deserted very soon: few cared to buy flowers in summer, and her bouquets began to droop long before night.

The art-table was the most attractive in the room; there was a crowd about it all day long, and the tenders were constantly flying to and fro with important faces and rattling money-boxes. Amy often looked wistfully across, longing to be there, where she felt at home and happy, instead of in a corner with nothing to do. It might seem no hardship to some of us; but to a pretty, blithe young girl, it was not only tedious, but very trying; and the thought of being found there in the evening by her family, and Laurie and his friends, made it a real martyrdom.

She did not go home till night, and then she looked so pale and quiet that they knew the day had been a hard one, though she made no complaint, and did not even tell what she had done. Her mother gave her an extra cordial cup of tea, Beth helped her dress, and made a charming little wreath for her hair, while Jo astonished her family by getting herself up with unusual care, and hinting darkly that the tables were about to be turned.

"Don't do anything rude, pray, Jo. I won't have any fuss made, so let it all pass, and behave yourself," begged Amy, as she departed early, hoping to find a reinforcement of flowers to refresh her poor little table.

"I merely intend to make myself entrancingly agreeable to every one I know, and to keep them in your corner as long as possible. Teddy and his boys will lend a hand, and we'll have a good time yet," returned Jo, leaning over the gate to watch for Laurie. Presently the familiar tramp was heard in the dusk, and she ran out to meet him.

"Is that my boy?"

"As sure as this is my girl!" and Laurie tucked her hand under his arm, with the air of a man whose every wish was gratified.

371 "O Teddy, such doings!" and Jo told Amy's wrongs with sisterly zeal.

"A flock of our fellows are going to drive over by and by, and I'll be hanged if I don't make them buy every flower she's got, and camp down before her table afterward," said Laurie, espousing her cause with warmth.

"The flowers are not at all nice, Amy says, and the fresh ones may not arrive in time. I don't wish to be unjust or suspicious, but I shouldn't wonder if they never came at all. When people do one mean thing they are very likely to do another," observed Jo, in a disgusted tone.

"Didn't Hayes give you the best out of our gardens? I told him to."

"I didn't know that; he forgot, I suppose; and, as your grandpa was poorly, I didn't like to worry him by asking, though I did want some."

"Now, Jo, how could you think there was any need of asking! They are just as much yours as mine. Don't we always go halves in everything?" began Laurie, in the tone that always made Jo turn thorny.

"Gracious, I hope not! half of some of your things wouldn't suit me at all. But we mustn't stand philandering here; I've got to help Amy, so you go and make yourself splendid; and if you'll be so very kind as to let Hayes take a few nice flowers up to the Hall, I'll bless you forever."

"Couldn't you do it now?" asked Laurie, so suggestively that Jo shut the gate in his face with inhospitable haste, and called through the bars, "Go away, Teddy; I'm busy."

Thanks to the conspirators, the tables were turned that night; for Hayes sent up a wilderness of flowers, with a lovely basket, arranged in his best manner, for a centre-piece; then the March family turned out en masse, and Jo exerted herself to some purpose, for people not only came, but stayed, laughing at her nonsense, admiring Amy's taste, and apparently enjoying themselves very much. Laurie and his friends gallantly threw themselves into the breach, bought up the bouquets, encamped before the table, and made that corner the liveliest 372 spot in the room. Amy was in her element now, and, out of gratitude, if nothing more, was as sprightly and gracious as possible,—coming to the conclusion, about that time, that virtue was its own reward, after all.

Jo behaved herself with exemplary propriety; and when Amy was happily surrounded by her guard of honor, Jo circulated about the hall, picking up various bits of gossip, which enlightened her upon the subject of the Chester change of base. She reproached herself for her share of the ill-feeling, and resolved to exonerate Amy as soon as possible; she also discovered what Amy had done about the things in the morning, and considered her a model of magnanimity. As she passed the art-table, she glanced over it for her sister's things, but saw no signs of them. "Tucked away out of sight, I dare say," thought Jo, who could forgive her own wrongs, but hotly resented any insult offered to her family.

"Good evening, Miss Jo. How does Amy get on?" asked May, with a conciliatory air, for she wanted to show that she also could be generous.

373 "She has sold everything she had that was worth selling, and now she is enjoying herself. The flower-table is always attractive, you know, 'especially to gentlemen.'"

Jo couldn't resist giving that little slap, but May took it so meekly she regretted it a minute after, and fell to praising the great vases, which still remained unsold.

"Is Amy's illumination anywhere about? I took a fancy to buy that for father," said Jo, very anxious to learn the fate of her sister's work.

"Everything of Amy's sold long ago; I took care that the right people saw them, and they made a nice little sum of money for us," returned May, who had overcome sundry small temptations, as well as Amy, that day.

Much gratified, Jo rushed back to tell the good news; and Amy looked both touched and surprised by the report of May's words and manner.

"Now, gentlemen, I want you to go and do your duty by the other tables as generously as you have by mine—especially the art-table," she said, ordering out "Teddy's Own," as the girls called the college friends.

"'Charge, Chester, charge!' is the motto for that table; but do your duty like men, and you'll get your money's worth of art in every sense of the word," said the irrepressible Jo, as the devoted phalanx prepared to take the field.

"To hear is to obey, but March is fairer far than May," said little Parker, making a frantic effort to be both witty and tender, and getting promptly quenched by Laurie, who said, "Very well, my son, for a small boy!" and walked him off, with a paternal pat on the head.

"Buy the vases," whispered Amy to Laurie, as a final heaping of coals of fire on her enemy's head.

To May's great delight, Mr. Laurence not only bought the vases, but pervaded the hall with one under each arm. The other gentlemen speculated with equal rashness in all sorts of frail trifles, and wandered helplessly about afterward, burdened with wax flowers, painted fans, filigree portfolios, and other useful and appropriate purchases.

374 Aunt Carrol was there, heard the story, looked pleased, and said something to Mrs. March in a corner, which made the latter lady beam with satisfaction, and watch Amy with a face full of mingled pride and anxiety, though she did not betray the cause of her pleasure till several days later.

The fair was pronounced a success; and when May bade Amy good night, she did not "gush" as usual, but gave her an affectionate kiss, and a look which said, "Forgive and forget." That satisfied Amy; and when she got home she found the vases paraded on the parlor chimney-piece, with a great bouquet in each. "The reward of merit for a magnanimous March," as Laurie announced with a flourish.

"You've a deal more principle and generosity and nobleness of character than I ever gave you credit for, Amy. You've behaved sweetly, and I respect you with all my heart," said Jo warmly, as they brushed their hair together late that night.

"Yes, we all do, and love her for being so ready to forgive. It must have been dreadfully hard, after working so long, and setting your heart on selling your own pretty things. I don't believe I could have done it as kindly as you did," added Beth from her pillow.

"Why, girls, you needn't praise me so; I only did as I'd be done by. You laugh at me when I say I want to be a lady, but I mean a true gentlewoman in mind and manners, and I try to do it as far as I know how. I can't explain exactly, but I want to be above the little meannesses and follies and faults that spoil so many women. I'm far from it now, but I do my best, and hope in time to be what mother is."

Amy spoke earnestly, and Jo said, with a cordial hug,—

"I understand now what you mean, and I'll never laugh at you again. You are getting on faster than you think, and I'll take lessons of you in true politeness, for you've learned the secret, I believe. Try away, deary; you'll get your reward some day, and no one will be more delighted than I shall."

A week later Amy did get her reward, and poor Jo found it hard to be delighted. A letter came from Aunt Carrol, and Mrs. March's face was illuminated to such a degree, when she read it, that Jo and Beth, who were with her, demanded what the glad tidings were.

375 "Aunt Carrol is going abroad next month, and wants—"

"Me to go with her!" burst in Jo, flying out of her chair in an uncontrollable rapture.

"No, dear, not you; it's Amy."

"O mother! she's too young; it's my turn first. I've wanted it so long—it would do me so much good, and be so altogether splendid—I must go."

"I'm afraid it's impossible, Jo. Aunt says Amy, decidedly, and it is not for us to dictate when she offers such a favor."

"It's always so. Amy has all the fun and I have all the work. It isn't fair, oh, it isn't fair!" cried Jo passionately.

"I'm afraid it is partly your own fault, dear. When Aunt spoke to me the other day, she regretted your blunt manners and too independent spirit; and here she writes, as if quoting something you had said,—'I planned at first to ask Jo; but as "favors burden her," and she "hates French," I think I won't venture to invite her. Amy is more docile, will make a good companion for Flo, and receive gratefully any help the trip may give her.'"

"Oh, my tongue, my abominable tongue! why can't I learn to keep it quiet?" groaned Jo, remembering words which had been her undoing. When she had heard the explanation of the quoted phrases, Mrs. March said sorrowfully,—

"I wish you could have gone, but there is no hope of it this time; so try to bear it cheerfully, and don't sadden Amy's pleasure by reproaches or regrets."

"I'll try," said Jo, winking hard, as she knelt down to pick up the basket she had joyfully upset. "I'll take a leaf out of her book, and try not only to seem glad, but to be so, and not grudge her one minute of happiness; but it won't be easy, for it is a dreadful disappointment;" and poor Jo bedewed the little fat pincushion she held with several very bitter tears.

"Jo, dear, I'm very selfish, but I couldn't spare you, and I'm glad you are not going quite yet," whispered Beth, embracing her, basket and all, with such a clinging touch and loving face, that Jo felt comforted in spite of the sharp regret that made her want to box her own ears, and humbly beg Aunt Carrol to burden her with this favor, and see how gratefully she would bear it.

376 By the time Amy came in, Jo was able to take her part in the family jubilation; not quite as heartily as usual, perhaps, but without repinings at Amy's good fortune. The young lady herself received the news as tidings of great joy, went about in a solemn sort of rapture, and began to sort her colors and pack her pencils that evening, leaving such trifles as clothes, money, and passports to those less absorbed in visions of art than herself.

"It isn't a mere pleasure trip to me, girls," she said impressively, as she scraped her best palette. "It will decide my career; for if I have any genius, I shall find it out in Rome, and will do something to prove it."

"Suppose you haven't?" said Jo, sewing away, with red eyes, at the new collars which were to be handed over to Amy.

"Then I shall come home and teach drawing for my living," replied the aspirant for fame, with philosophic composure; but she made a wry face at the prospect, and scratched away at her palette as if bent on vigorous measures before she gave up her hopes.

"No, you won't; you hate hard work, and you'll marry some rich man, and come home to sit in the lap of luxury all your days," said Jo.

"Your predictions sometimes come to pass, but I don't believe that one will. I'm sure I wish it would, for if I can't be an artist myself, I should like to be able to help those who are," said Amy, smiling, as if the part of Lady Bountiful would suit her better than that of a poor drawing-teacher.

"Hum!" said Jo, with a sigh; "if you wish it you'll have it, for your wishes are always granted—mine never."

"Would you like to go?" asked Amy, thoughtfully patting her nose with her knife.

"Rather!"

"Well, in a year or two I'll send for you, and we'll dig in the Forum for relics, and carry out all the plans we've made so many times."

"Thank you; I'll remind you of your promise when that joyful day comes, if it ever does," returned Jo, accepting the vague but magnificent offer as gratefully as she could.

377 There was not much time for preparation, and the house was in a ferment till Amy was off. Jo bore up very well till the last flutter of blue ribbon vanished, when she retired to her refuge, the garret, and cried till she couldn't cry any more. Amy likewise bore up stoutly till the steamer sailed; then, just as the gangway was about to be withdrawn, it suddenly came over her that a whole ocean was soon to roll between her and those who loved her best, and she clung to Laurie, the last lingerer, saying with a sob,—

"Oh, take care of them for me; and if anything should happen—"

"I will, dear, I will; and if anything happens, I'll come and comfort you," whispered Laurie, little dreaming that he would be called upon to keep his word.

So Amy sailed away to find the old world, which is always new and beautiful to young eyes, while her father and friend watched her from the shore, fervently hoping that none but gentle fortunes would befall the happy-hearted girl, who waved her hand to them till they could see nothing but the summer sunshine dazzling on the sea.

378

XXXI.

OUR FOREIGN CORRESPONDENT.

"London.

"Dearest People,—

"Here I really sit at a front window of the Bath Hotel, Piccadilly. It's not a fashionable place, but uncle stopped here years ago, and won't go anywhere else; however, we don't mean to stay long, so it's no great matter. Oh, I can't begin to tell you how I enjoy it all! I never can, so I'll only give you bits out of my note-book, for I've done nothing but sketch and scribble since I started.

"I sent a line from Halifax, when I felt pretty miserable, but after that I got on delightfully, seldom ill, on deck all day, with plenty of pleasant people to amuse me. Every one was very kind to me, especially the officers. Don't laugh, Jo; gentlemen really are very 379 necessary aboard ship, to hold on to, or to wait upon one; and as they have nothing to do, it's a mercy to make them useful, otherwise they would smoke themselves to death, I'm afraid.

"Every one was very kind, especially the officers."—Page 378. "Aunt and Flo were poorly all the way, and liked to be let alone, so when I had done what I could for them, I went and enjoyed myself. Such walks on deck, such sunsets, such splendid air and waves! It was almost as exciting as riding a fast horse, when we went rushing on so grandly. I wish Beth could have come, it would have done her so much good; as for Jo, she would have gone up and sat on the main-top jib, or whatever the high thing is called, made friends with the engineers, and tooted on the captain's speaking-trumpet, she'd have been in such a state of rapture.

"It was all heavenly, but I was glad to see the Irish coast, and found it very lovely, so green and sunny, with brown cabins here and there, ruins on some of the hills, and gentlemen's country-seats in the valleys, with deer feeding in the parks. It was early in the morning, but I didn't regret getting up to see it, for the bay was full of little boats, the shore so picturesque, and a rosy sky overhead. I never shall forget it.

"At Queenstown one of my new acquaintances left us,—Mr. Lennox,—and when I said something about the Lakes of Killarney, he sighed and sung, with a look at me,—

'Oh, have you e'er heard of Kate Kearney?

She lives on the banks of Killarney;

From the glance of her eye,

Shun danger and fly,

For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney.'

Wasn't that nonsensical?

"We only stopped at Liverpool a few hours. It's a dirty, noisy place, and I was glad to leave it. Uncle rushed out and bought a pair of dog-skin gloves, some ugly, thick shoes, and an umbrella, and got shaved à la mutton-chop, the first thing. Then he flattered himself that he looked like a true Briton; but the first time he had the mud cleaned off his shoes, the little bootblack knew that an American stood in them, and said, with a grin, 'There yer har, sir. I've give 'em 380 the latest Yankee shine.' It amused uncle immensely. Oh, I must tell you what that absurd Lennox did! He got his friend Ward, who came on with us, to order a bouquet for me, and the first thing I saw in my room was a lovely one, with 'Robert Lennox's compliments,' on the card. Wasn't that fun, girls? I like travelling.

"I never shall get to London if I don't hurry. The trip was like riding through a long picture-gallery, full of lovely landscapes. The farmhouses were my delight; with thatched roofs, ivy up to the eaves, latticed windows, and stout women with rosy children at the doors. The very cattle looked more tranquil than ours, as they stood knee-deep in clover, and the hens had a contented cluck, as if they never got nervous, like Yankee biddies. Such perfect color I never saw,—the grass so green, sky so blue, grain so yellow, woods so dark,—I was in a rapture all the way. So was Flo; and we kept bouncing from one side to the other, trying to see everything while we were whisking along at the rate of sixty miles an hour. Aunt was tired and went to sleep, but uncle read his guide-book, and wouldn't be astonished at anything. This is the way we went on: Amy, flying up,—'Oh, that must be Kenilworth, that gray place among the trees!' Flo, darting to my window,—'How sweet! We must go there some time, won't we, papa?' Uncle, calmly admiring his boots,—'No, my dear, not unless you want beer; that's a brewery.'

"A pause,—then Flo cried out, 'Bless me, there's a gallows and a man going up.' 'Where, where?' shrieks Amy, staring out at two tall posts with a cross-beam and some dangling chains. 'A colliery,' remarks uncle, with a twinkle of the eye. 'Here's a lovely flock of lambs all lying down,' says Amy. 'See, papa, aren't they pretty!' added Flo sentimentally. 'Geese, young ladies,' returns uncle, in a tone that keeps us quiet till Flo settles down to enjoy 'The Flirtations of Capt. Cavendish,' and I have the scenery all to myself.

"Of course it rained when we got to London, and there was nothing to be seen but fog and umbrellas. We rested, unpacked, and shopped a little between the showers. Aunt Mary got me some new things, for I came off in such a hurry I wasn't half ready. A white hat and blue feather, a muslin dress to match, and the loveliest mantle you ever saw. Shopping in Regent Street is perfectly splendid; 381 things seem so cheap—nice ribbons only sixpence a yard. I laid in a stock, but shall get my gloves in Paris. Doesn't that sound sort of elegant and rich?

"Flo and I, for the fun of it, ordered a hansom cab, while aunt and uncle were out, and went for a drive, though we learned afterward that it wasn't the thing for young ladies to ride in them alone. It was so droll! for when we were shut in by the wooden apron, the man drove so fast that Flo was frightened, and told me to stop him. But he was up outside behind somewhere, and I couldn't get at him. He didn't hear me call, nor see me flap my parasol in front, and there we were, quite helpless, rattling away, and whirling around corners at a break-neck pace. At last, in my despair, I saw a little door in the roof, and on poking it open, a red eye appeared, and a beery voice said,—

"'Now then, mum?'

"I gave my order as soberly as I could, and slamming down the door, with an 'Aye, aye, mum,' the man made his horse walk, as if going to a funeral. I poked again, and said, 'A little faster;' then off he went, helter-skelter, as before, and we resigned ourselves to our fate.

"To-day was fair and we went to Hyde Park, close by, for we are more aristocratic than we look. The Duke of Devonshire lives near. I often see his footmen lounging at the back gate; and the Duke of Wellington's house is not far off. Such sights as I saw, my dear! It was as good as Punch, for there were fat dowagers rolling about in their red and yellow coaches, with gorgeous Jeameses in silk stockings and velvet coats, up behind, and powdered coachmen in front. Smart maids, with the rosiest children I ever saw; handsome girls, looking half asleep; dandies, in queer English hats and lavender kids, lounging about, and tall soldiers, in short red jackets and muffin caps stuck on one side, looking so funny I longed to sketch them.

"Rotten Row means 'Route de Roi,' or the king's way; but now it's more like a riding-school than anything else. The horses are splendid, and the men, especially the grooms, ride well; but the women are stiff, and bounce, which isn't according to our rules. I longed to show them a tearing American gallop, for they trotted solemnly up and down, in their scant habits and high hats, looking like the women 382 in a toy Noah's Ark. Every one rides,—old men, stout ladies, little children,—and the young folks do a deal of flirting here; I saw a pair exchange rosebuds, for it's the thing to wear one in the button-hole, and I thought it rather a nice little idea.

"In the p.m. to Westminster Abbey; but don't expect me to describe it, that's impossible—so I'll only say it was sublime! This evening we are going to see Fechter, which will be an appropriate end to the happiest day of my life.

"Midnight.

"It's very late, but I can't let my letter go in the morning without telling you what happened last evening. Who do you think came in, as we were at tea? Laurie's English friends, Fred and Frank Vaughn! I was so surprised, for I shouldn't have known them but for the cards. Both are tall fellows, with whiskers; Fred handsome in the English style, and Frank much better, for he only limps slightly, and uses no crutches. They had heard from Laurie where we were to be, and came to ask us to their house; but uncle won't go, so we shall return the call, and see them as we can. They went to the theatre with us, and we did have such a good time, for Frank devoted himself to Flo, and Fred and I talked over past, present, and future fun as if we had known each other all our days. Tell Beth Frank asked for her, and was sorry to hear of her ill health. Fred laughed when I spoke of Jo, and sent his 'respectful compliments to the big hat.' Neither of them had forgotten Camp Laurence, or the fun we had there. What ages ago it seems, doesn't it?

"Aunt is tapping on the wall for the third time, so I must stop. I really feel like a dissipated London fine lady, writing here so late, with my room full of pretty things, and my head a jumble of parks, theatres, new gowns, and gallant creatures who say 'Ah!' and twirl their blond mustaches with the true English lordliness. I long to see you all, and in spite of my nonsense am, as ever, your loving

Amy."

"Paris"

"Dear Girls,—

"In my last I told you about our London visit,—how kind the Vaughns were, and what pleasant parties they made for us. I enjoyed the trips to Hampton Court and the Kensington Museum 383 more than anything else,—for at Hampton I saw Raphael's cartoons, and, at the Museum, rooms full of pictures by Turner, Lawrence, Reynolds, Hogarth, and the other great creatures. The day in Richmond Park was charming, for we had a regular English picnic, and I had more splendid oaks and groups of deer than I could copy; also heard a nightingale, and saw larks go up. We 'did' London to our hearts' content, thanks to Fred and Frank, and were sorry to go away; for, though English people are slow to take you in, when they once make up their minds to do it they cannot be outdone in hospitality, I think. The Vaughns hope to meet us in Rome next winter, and I shall be dreadfully disappointed if they don't, for Grace and I are great friends, and the boys very nice fellows,—especially Fred.

"Well, we were hardly settled here, when he turned up again, saying he had come for a holiday, and was going to Switzerland. Aunt looked sober at first, but he was so cool about it she couldn't say a word; and now we get on nicely, and are very glad he came, for he speaks French like a native, and I don't know what we should do without him. Uncle doesn't know ten words, and insists on talking English very loud, as if that would make people understand him. Aunt's pronunciation is old-fashioned, and Flo and I, though we flattered ourselves that we knew a good deal, find we don't, and are very grateful to have Fred do the 'parley vooing,' as uncle calls it.

"Such delightful times as we are having! sight-seeing from morning till night, stopping for nice lunches in the gay cafés, and meeting with all sorts of droll adventures. Rainy days I spend in the Louvre, revelling in pictures. Jo would turn up her naughty nose at some of the finest, because she has no soul for art; but I have, and I'm cultivating eye and taste as fast as I can. She would like the relics of great people better, for I've seen her Napoleon's cocked hat and gray coat, his baby's cradle and his old toothbrush; also Marie Antoinette's little shoe, the ring of Saint Denis, Charlemagne's sword, and many other interesting things. I'll talk for hours about them when I come, but haven't time to write.

"The Palais Royale is a heavenly place,—so full of bijouterie and lovely things that I'm nearly distracted because I can't buy them. 384 Fred wanted to get me some, but of course I didn't allow it. Then the Bois and the Champs Elysées are très magnifique. I've seen the imperial family several times,—the emperor an ugly, hard-looking man, the empress pale and pretty, but dressed in bad taste, I thought,—purple dress, green hat, and yellow gloves. Little Nap. is a handsome boy, who sits chatting to his tutor, and kisses his hand to the people as he passes in his four-horse barouche, with postilions in red satin jackets, and a mounted guard before and behind.

"We often walk in the Tuileries Gardens, for they are lovely, though the antique Luxembourg Gardens suit me better. Père la Chaise is very curious, for many of the tombs are like small rooms, and, looking in, one sees a table, with images or pictures of the dead, and chairs for the mourners to sit in when they come to lament. That is so Frenchy.

"Our rooms are on the Rue de Rivoli, and, sitting in the balcony, we look up and down the long, brilliant street. It is so pleasant that we spend our evenings talking there, when too tired with our day's work to go out. Fred is very entertaining, and is altogether 385 the most agreeable young man I ever knew,—except Laurie, whose manners are more charming. I wish Fred was dark, for I don't fancy light men; however, the Vaughns are very rich, and come of an excellent family, so I won't find fault with their yellow hair, as my own is yellower.

"Next week we are off to Germany and Switzerland; and, as we shall travel fast, I shall only be able to give you hasty letters. I keep my diary, and try to 'remember correctly and describe clearly all that I see and admire,' as father advised. It is good practice for me, and, with my sketch-book, will give you a better idea of my tour than these scribbles.

"Adieu; I embrace you tenderly.

Votre Amie."

"Heidelberg.

"My dear Mamma,—

"Having a quiet hour before we leave for Berne, I'll try to tell you what has happened, for some of it is very important, as you will see.

"The sail up the Rhine was perfect, and I just sat and enjoyed it with all my might. Get father's old guide-books, and read about it; I haven't words beautiful enough to describe it. At Coblentz we had a lovely time, for some students from Bonn, with whom Fred got acquainted on the boat, gave us a serenade. It was a moonlight night, and, about one o'clock, Flo and I were waked by the most delicious music under our windows. We flew up, and hid behind the curtains; but sly peeps showed us Fred and the students singing away down below. It was the most romantic thing I ever saw,—the river, the bridge of boats, the great fortress opposite, moonlight everywhere, and music fit to melt a heart of stone.

"When they were done we threw down some flowers, and saw them scramble for them, kiss their hands to the invisible ladies, and go laughing away,—to smoke and drink beer, I suppose. Next morning Fred showed me one of the crumpled flowers in his vest-pocket, and looked very sentimental. I laughed at him, and said I didn't throw it, but Flo, which seemed to disgust him, for he tossed it out of the window, and turned sensible again. I'm afraid I'm going to have trouble with that boy, it begins to look like it.

386 "The baths at Nassau were very gay, so was Baden-Baden, where Fred lost some money, and I scolded him. He needs some one to look after him when Frank is not with him. Kate said once she hoped he'd marry soon, and I quite agree with her that it would be well for him. Frankfort was delightful; I saw Goethe's house, Schiller's statue, and Dannecker's famous 'Ariadne.' It was very lovely, but I should have enjoyed it more if I had known the story better. I didn't like to ask, as every one knew it, or pretended they did. I wish Jo would tell me all about it; I ought to have read more, for I find I don't know anything, and it mortifies me.

"Now comes the serious part,—for it happened here, and Fred is just gone. He has been so kind and jolly that we all got quite fond of him; I never thought of anything but a travelling friendship, till the serenade night. Since then I've begun to feel that the moonlight walks, balcony talks, and daily adventures were something more to him than fun. I haven't flirted, mother, truly, but remembered what you said to me, and have done my very best. I can't help it if people like me; I don't try to make them, and it worries me if I don't care for them, though Jo says I haven't got any heart. Now I know mother will shake her head, and the girls say, 'Oh, the mercenary little wretch!' but I've made up my mind, and, if Fred asks me, I shall accept him, though I'm not madly in love. I like him, and we get on comfortably together. He is handsome, young, clever enough, and very rich,—ever so much richer than the Laurences. I don't think his family would object, and I should be very happy, for they are all kind, well-bred, generous people, and they like me. Fred, as the eldest twin, will have the estate, I suppose, and such a splendid one as it is! A city house in a fashionable street, not so showy as our big houses, but twice as comfortable, and full of solid luxury, such as English people believe in. I like it, for it's genuine. I've seen the plate, the family jewels, the old servants, and pictures of the country place, with its park, great house, lovely grounds, and fine horses. Oh, it would be all I should ask! and I'd rather have it than any title such as girls snap up so readily, and find nothing behind. I may be mercenary, but I hate poverty, and don't mean to bear it a minute longer than I can help. One of us must marry well; 387 Meg didn't, Jo won't, Beth can't yet, so I shall, and make everything cosey all round. I wouldn't marry a man I hated or despised. You may be sure of that; and, though Fred is not my model hero, he does very well, and, in time, I should get fond enough of him if he was very fond of me, and let me do just as I liked. So I've been turning the matter over in my mind the last week, for it was impossible to help seeing that Fred liked me. He said nothing, but little things showed it; he never goes with Flo, always gets on my side of the carriage, table, or promenade, looks sentimental when we are alone, and frowns at any one else who ventures to speak to me. Yesterday, at dinner, when an Austrian officer stared at us, and then said something to his friend,—a rakish-looking baron,—about 'ein wonderschönes Blöndchen,' Fred looked as fierce as a lion, and cut his meat so savagely, it nearly flew off his plate. He isn't one of the cool, stiff Englishmen, but is rather peppery, for he has Scotch blood in him, as one might guess from his bonnie blue eyes.

"Well, last evening we went up to the castle about sunset,—at least all of us but Fred, who was to meet us there, after going to the Post Restante for letters. We had a charming time poking about the ruins, the vaults where the monster tun is, and the beautiful gardens made by the elector, long ago, for his English wife. I liked the great terrace best, for the view was divine; so, while the rest went to see the rooms inside, I sat there trying to sketch the gray stone lion's head on the wall, with scarlet woodbine sprays hanging round it. I felt as if I'd got into a romance, sitting there, watching the Neckar rolling through the valley, listening to the music of the Austrian band below, and waiting for my lover, like a 388 real story-book girl. I had a feeling that something was going to happen, and I was ready for it. I didn't feel blushy or quakey, but quite cool, and only a little excited.

"By and by I heard Fred's voice, and then he came hurrying through the great arch to find me. He looked so troubled that I forgot all about myself, and asked what the matter was. He said he'd just got a letter begging him to come home, for Frank was very ill; so he was going at once, in the night train, and only had time to say good-by. I was very sorry for him, and disappointed for myself, but only for a minute, because he said, as he shook hands,—and said it in a way that I could not mistake,—'I shall soon come back; you won't forget me, Amy?'

"I didn't promise, but I looked at him, and he seemed satisfied, and there was no time for anything but messages and good-byes, for he was off in an hour, and we all miss him very much. I know he wanted to speak, but I think, from something he once hinted, that he had promised his father not to do anything of the sort yet awhile, for he is a rash boy, and the old gentleman dreads a foreign daughter-in-law. We shall soon meet in Rome; and then, if I don't change my mind, I'll say 'Yes, thank you,' when he says 'Will you, please?'

"Of course this is all very private, but I wished you to know what was going on. Don't be anxious about me; remember I am your 'prudent Amy,' and be sure I will do nothing rashly. Send me as much advice as you like; I'll use it if I can. I wish I could see you for a good talk, Marmee. Love and trust me.

"Ever your

Amy."

389

XXXII.

TENDER TROUBLES.

"Jo, I'm anxious about Beth."

"Why, mother, she has seemed unusually well since the babies came."

"It's not her health that troubles me now; it's her spirits. I'm sure there is something on her mind, and I want you to discover what it is."

"What makes you think so, mother?"

"She sits alone a good deal, and doesn't talk to her father as much as she used. I found her crying over the babies the other day. When she sings, the songs are always sad ones, and now and then I see a look in her face that I don't understand. This isn't like Beth, and it worries me."

"Have you asked her about it?"

"I have tried once or twice; but she either evaded my questions, or looked so distressed that I stopped. I never force my children's confidence, and I seldom have to wait for it long."

Mrs. March glanced at Jo as she spoke, but the face opposite seemed quite unconscious of any secret disquietude but Beth's; and, after sewing thoughtfully for a minute, Jo said,—

"I think she is growing up, and so begins to dream dreams, and have hopes and fears and fidgets, without knowing why, or being able to explain them. Why, mother, Beth's eighteen, but we don't realize it, and treat her like a child, forgetting she's a woman."

"So she is. Dear heart, how fast you do grow up," returned her mother, with a sigh and a smile.

" 390 Can't be helped, Marmee, so you must resign yourself to all sorts of worries, and let your birds hop out of the nest, one by one. I promise never to hop very far, if that is any comfort to you."

"It is a great comfort, Jo; I always feel strong when you are at home, now Meg is gone. Beth is too feeble and Amy too young to depend upon; but when the tug comes, you are always ready."

"Why, you know I don't mind hard jobs much, and there must always be one scrub in a family. Amy is splendid in fine works, and I'm not; but I feel in my element when all the carpets are to be taken up, or half the family fall sick at once. Amy is distinguishing herself abroad; but if anything is amiss at home, I'm your man."

"I leave Beth to your hands, then, for she will open her tender little heart to her Jo sooner than to any one else. Be very kind, and don't let her think any one watches or talks about her. If she only would get quite strong and cheerful again, I shouldn't have a wish in the world."

"Happy woman! I've got heaps."

"My dear, what are they?"

"I'll settle Bethy's troubles, and then I'll tell you mine. They are not very wearing, so they'll keep;" and Jo stitched away, with a wise nod which set her mother's heart at rest about her, for the present at least.

While apparently absorbed in her own affairs, Jo watched Beth; and, after many conflicting conjectures, finally settled upon one which seemed to explain the change in her. A slight incident gave Jo the clue to the mystery, she thought, and lively fancy, loving heart did the rest. She was affecting to write busily one Saturday afternoon, when she and Beth were alone together; yet as she scribbled, she kept her eye on her sister, who seemed unusually quiet. Sitting at the window, Beth's work often dropped into her lap, and she leaned her head upon her hand, in a dejected attitude, while her eyes rested on the dull, autumnal landscape. Suddenly some one passed below, whistling like an operatic blackbird, and a voice called out,—

"All serene! Coming in to-night."

Beth started, leaned forward, smiled and nodded, watched the 391 passer-by till his quick tramp died away, then said softly, as if to herself,—

"How strong and well and happy that dear boy looks."

"Hum!" said Jo, still intent upon her sister's face; for the bright color faded as quickly as it came, the smile vanished, and presently a tear lay shining on the window-ledge. Beth whisked it off, and glanced apprehensively at Jo; but she was scratching away at a tremendous rate, apparently engrossed in "Olympia's Oath." The instant Beth turned, Jo began her watch again, saw Beth's hand go quietly to her eyes more than once, and, in her half-averted face, read a tender sorrow that made her own eyes fill. Fearing to betray herself, she slipped away, murmuring something about needing more paper.

392 "Mercy on me, Beth loves Laurie!" she said, sitting down in her own room, pale with the shock of the discovery which she believed she had just made. "I never dreamt of such a thing. What will mother say? I wonder if he—" there Jo stopped, and turned scarlet with a sudden thought. "If he shouldn't love back again, how dreadful it would be. He must; I'll make him!" and she shook her head threateningly at the picture of the mischievous-looking boy laughing at her from the wall. "Oh dear, we are growing up with a vengeance. Here's Meg married and a mamma, Amy flourishing away at Paris, and Beth in love. I'm the only one that has sense enough to keep out of mischief." Jo thought intently for a minute, with her eyes fixed on the picture; then she smoothed out her wrinkled forehead, and said, with a decided nod at the face opposite, "No, thank you, sir; you're very charming, but you've no more stability than a weathercock; so you needn't write touching notes, and smile in that insinuating way, for it won't do a bit of good, and I won't have it."

Then she sighed, and fell into a reverie, from which she did not wake till the early twilight sent her down to take new observations, which only confirmed her suspicion. Though Laurie flirted with Amy and joked with Jo, his manner to Beth had always been peculiarly kind and gentle, but so was everybody's; therefore, no one thought of imagining that he cared more for her than for the others. Indeed, a general impression had prevailed in the family, of late, that "our boy" was getting fonder than ever of Jo, who, however, wouldn't hear a word upon the subject, and scolded violently if any one dared to suggest it. If they had known the various tender passages of the past year, or rather attempts at tender passages which had been nipped in the bud, they would have had the immense satisfaction of saying, "I told you so." But Jo hated "philandering," and wouldn't allow it, always having a joke or a smile ready at the least sign of impending danger.

When Laurie first went to college, he fell in love about once a month; but these small flames were as brief as ardent, did no damage, and much amused Jo, who took great interest in the alternations of hope, despair, and resignation, which were confided to her in 393 their weekly conferences. But there came a time when Laurie ceased to worship at many shrines, hinted darkly at one all-absorbing passion, and indulged occasionally in Byronic fits of gloom. Then he avoided the tender subject altogether, wrote philosophical notes to Jo, turned studious, and gave out that he was going to "dig," intending to graduate in a blaze of glory. This suited the young lady better than twilight confidences, tender pressures of the hand, and eloquent glances of the eye; for with Jo, brain developed earlier than heart, and she preferred imaginary heroes to real ones, because, when tired of them, the former could be shut up in the tin-kitchen till called for, and the latter were less manageable.

Things were in this state when the grand discovery was made, and Jo watched Laurie that night as she had never done before. If she had not got the new idea into her head, she would have seen nothing unusual in the fact that Beth was very quiet, and Laurie very kind to her. But having given the rein to her lively fancy, it galloped away with her at a great pace; and common sense, being rather weakened by a long course of romance writing, did not come to the rescue. As usual, Beth lay on the sofa, and Laurie sat in a low chair close by, amusing her with all sorts of gossip; for she depended on her weekly "spin," and he never disappointed her. But that evening, Jo fancied that Beth's eyes rested on the lively, dark face beside her with peculiar pleasure, and that she listened with intense interest to an account of some exciting cricket-match, though the phrases, "caught off a tice," "stumped off his ground," and "the leg hit for three," were as intelligible to her as Sanscrit. She also fancied, having set her heart upon seeing it, that she saw a certain increase of gentleness in Laurie's manner, that he dropped his voice now and then, laughed less than usual, was a little absent-minded, and settled the afghan over Beth's feet with an assiduity that was really almost tender.

"Who knows? stranger things have happened," thought Jo, as she fussed about the room. "She will make quite an angel of him, and he will make life delightfully easy and pleasant for the dear, if they only love each other. I don't see how he can help it; and I do believe he would if the rest of us were out of the way."

As every one was out of the way but herself, Jo began to feel that 394 she ought to dispose of herself with all speed. But where should she go? and burning to lay herself upon the shrine of sisterly devotion, she sat down to settle that point.

Now, the old sofa was a regular patriarch of a sofa,—long, broad, well-cushioned, and low; a trifle shabby, as well it might be, for the girls had slept and sprawled on it as babies, fished over the back, rode on the arms, and had menageries under it as children, and rested tired heads, dreamed dreams, and listened to tender talk on it as young women. They all loved it, for it was a family refuge, and one corner had always been Jo's favorite lounging-place. Among the many pillows that adorned the venerable couch was one, hard, round, covered with prickly horsehair, and furnished with a knobby button at each end; this repulsive pillow was her especial property, being used as a weapon of defence, a barricade, or a stern preventive of too much slumber.

Laurie knew this pillow well, and had cause to regard it with deep aversion, having been unmercifully pummelled with it in former days, when romping was allowed, and now frequently debarred by it from taking the seat he most coveted, next to Jo in the sofa corner. If "the sausage" as they called it, stood on end, it was a sign that he might approach and repose; but if it lay flat across the sofa, woe to the man, woman, or child who dared disturb it! That evening Jo forgot to barricade her corner, and had not been in her seat five minutes, before a massive form appeared beside her, and, with both arms spread over the sofa-back, both long legs stretched out before him, Laurie exclaimed, with a sigh of satisfaction,—

"Now, this is filling at the price."

"No slang," snapped Jo, slamming down the pillow. But it was too late, there was no room for it; and, coasting on to the floor, it disappeared in a most mysterious manner.

"Come, Jo, don't be thorny. After studying himself to a skeleton all the week, a fellow deserves petting, and ought to get it."

"Beth will pet you; I'm busy."

"No, she's not to be bothered with me; but you like that sort of thing, unless you've suddenly lost your taste for it. Have you? Do you hate your boy, and want to fire pillows at him?"

395 Anything more wheedlesome than that touching appeal was seldom heard, but Jo quenched "her boy" by turning on him with the stern query,—

"How many bouquets have you sent Miss Randal this week?"

"Not one, upon my word. She's engaged. Now then."

"I'm glad of it; that's one of your foolish extravagances,—sending flowers and things to girls for whom you don't care two pins," continued Jo reprovingly.

"Sensible girls, for whom I do care whole papers of pins, won't let me send them 'flowers and things,' so what can I do? My feelings must have a went."

"Mother doesn't approve of flirting, even in fun; and you do flirt desperately, Teddy."

"I'd give anything if I could answer, 'So do you.' As I can't, I'll merely say that I don't see any harm in that pleasant little game, if all parties understand that it's only play."

"Well, it does look pleasant, but I can't learn how it's done. I've tried, because one feels awkward in company, not to do as everybody else is doing; but I don't seem to get on," said Jo, forgetting to play Mentor.

396 "Take lessons of Amy; she has a regular talent for it."

"Yes, she does it very prettily, and never seems to go too far. I suppose it's natural to some people to please without trying, and others to always say and do the wrong thing in the wrong place."

"I'm glad you can't flirt; it's really refreshing to see a sensible, straightforward girl, who can be jolly and kind without making a fool of herself. Between ourselves, Jo, some of the girls I know really do go on at such a rate I'm ashamed of them. They don't mean any harm, I'm sure; but if they knew how we fellows talked about them afterward, they'd mend their ways, I fancy."

"They do the same; and, as their tongues are the sharpest, you fellows get the worst of it, for you are as silly as they, every bit. If you behaved properly, they would; but, knowing you like their nonsense, they keep it up, and then you blame them."

"Much you know about it, ma'am," said Laurie, in a superior tone. "We don't like romps and flirts, though we may act as if we did sometimes. The pretty, modest girls are never talked about, except respectfully, among gentlemen. Bless your innocent soul! If you could be in my place for a month you'd see things that would astonish you a trifle. Upon my word, when I see one of those harum-scarum girls, I always want to say with our friend Cock Robin,—

"'Out upon you, fie upon you,

Bold-faced jig!'"

It was impossible to help laughing at the funny conflict between Laurie's chivalrous reluctance to speak ill of womankind, and his very natural dislike of the unfeminine folly of which fashionable society showed him many samples. Jo knew that "young Laurence" was regarded as a most eligible parti by worldly mammas, was much smiled upon by their daughters, and flattered enough by ladies of all ages to make a coxcomb of him; so she watched him rather jealously, fearing he would be spoilt, and rejoiced more than she confessed to find that he still believed in modest girls. Returning suddenly to her admonitory tone, she said, dropping her voice, "If you must have a 'went,' Teddy, go and devote yourself to one of the 'pretty, modest girls' whom you do respect, and not waste your time with the silly ones."

397 "You really advise it?" and Laurie looked at her with an odd mixture of anxiety and merriment in his face.

"Yes, I do; but you'd better wait till you are through college, on the whole, and be fitting yourself for the place meantime. You're not half good enough for—well, whoever the modest girl may be," and Jo looked a little queer likewise, for a name had almost escaped her.

"That I'm not!" acquiesced Laurie, with an expression of humility quite new to him, as he dropped his eyes, and absently wound Jo's apron-tassel round his finger.

"Mercy on us, this will never do," thought Jo; adding aloud, "Go and sing to me. I'm dying for some music, and always like yours."

"I'd rather stay here, thank you."

"Well, you can't; there isn't room. Go and make yourself useful, since you are too big to be ornamental. I thought you hated to be tied to a woman's apron-string?" retorted Jo, quoting certain rebellious words of his own.

"Ah, that depends on who wears the apron!" and Laurie gave an audacious tweak at the tassel.

"Are you going?" demanded Jo, diving for the pillow.

He fled at once, and the minute it was well "Up with the bonnets of bonnie Dundee," she slipped away, to return no more till the young gentleman had departed in high dudgeon.

Jo lay long awake that night, and was just dropping off when the sound of a stifled sob made her fly to Beth's bedside, with the anxious inquiry, "What is it, dear?"

"I thought you were asleep," sobbed Beth.

"Is it the old pain, my precious?"

"No; it's a new one; but I can bear it," and Beth tried to check her tears.

"Tell me all about it, and let me cure it as I often did the other."

"You can't; there is no cure." There Beth's voice gave way, and, clinging to her sister, she cried so despairingly that Jo was frightened.

"Where is it? Shall I call mother?"

398 Beth did not answer the first question; but in the dark one hand went involuntarily to her heart, as if the pain were there; with the other she held Jo fast, whispering eagerly, "No, no, don't call her, don't tell her. I shall be better soon. Lie down here and 'poor' my head. I'll be quiet, and go to sleep; indeed I will."

Jo obeyed; but as her hand went softly to and fro across Beth's hot forehead and wet eyelids, her heart was very full, and she longed to speak. But young as she was, Jo had learned that hearts, like flowers, cannot be rudely handled, but must open naturally; so, though she believed she knew the cause of Beth's new pain, she only said, in her tenderest tone, "Does anything trouble you, deary?"

399 "Yes, Jo," after a long pause.

"Wouldn't it comfort you to tell me what it is?"

"Not now, not yet."

"Then I won't ask; but remember, Bethy, that mother and Jo are always glad to hear and help you, if they can."

"I know it. I'll tell you by and by."

"Is the pain better now?"

"Oh, yes, much better; you are so comfortable, Jo!"

"Go to sleep, dear; I'll stay with you."

So cheek to cheek they fell asleep, and on the morrow Beth seemed quite herself again; for at eighteen, neither heads nor hearts ache long, and a loving word can medicine most ills.

But Jo had made up her mind, and, after pondering over a project for some days, she confided it to her mother.

"You asked me the other day what my wishes were. I'll tell you one of them, Marmee," she began, as they sat alone together. "I want to go away somewhere this winter for a change."

"Why, Jo?" and her mother looked up quickly, as if the words suggested a double meaning.

With her eyes on her work, Jo answered soberly, "I want something new; I feel restless, and anxious to be seeing, doing, and learning more than I am. I brood too much over my own small affairs, and need stirring up, so, as I can be spared this winter, I'd like to hop a little way, and try my wings."

"Where will you hop?"

"To New York. I had a bright idea yesterday, and this is it. You know Mrs. Kirke wrote to you for some respectable young person to teach her children and sew. It's rather hard to find just the thing, but I think I should suit if I tried."

"My dear, go out to service in that great boarding-house!" and Mrs. March looked surprised, but not displeased.

"It's not exactly going out to service; for Mrs. Kirke is your friend,—the kindest soul that ever lived,—and would make things pleasant for me, I know. Her family is separate from the rest, and no one knows me there. Don't care if they do; it's honest work, and I'm not ashamed of it."

400 "Nor I; but your writing?"

"All the better for the change. I shall see and hear new things, get new ideas, and, even if I haven't much time there, I shall bring home quantities of material for my rubbish."

"I have no doubt of it; but are these your only reasons for this sudden fancy?"

"No, mother."

"May I know the others?"

Jo looked up and Jo looked down, then said slowly, with sudden color in her cheeks, "It may be vain and wrong to say it, but—I'm afraid—Laurie is getting too fond of me."

"Then you don't care for him in the way it is evident he begins to care for you?" and Mrs. March looked anxious as she put the question.

"Mercy, no! I love the dear boy, as I always have, and am immensely proud of him; but as for anything more, it's out of the question."

"I'm glad of that, Jo."

"Why, please?"

"Because, dear, I don't think you suited to one another. As friends you are very happy, and your frequent quarrels soon blow over; but I fear you would both rebel if you were mated for life. You are too much alike and too fond of freedom, not to mention hot tempers and strong wills, to get on happily together, in a relation which needs infinite patience and forbearance, as well as love."

"That's just the feeling I had, though I couldn't express it. I'm glad you think he is only beginning to care for me. It would trouble me sadly to make him unhappy; for I couldn't fall in love with the dear old fellow merely out of gratitude, could I?"

"You are sure of his feeling for you?"

The color deepened in Jo's cheeks, as she answered, with the look of mingled pleasure, pride, and pain which young girls wear when speaking of first lovers,—

"I'm afraid it is so, mother; he hasn't said anything, but he looks a great deal. I think I had better go away before it comes to anything."

401 "I agree with you, and if it can be managed you shall go."

Jo looked relieved, and, after a pause, said, smiling, "How Mrs. Moffat would wonder at your want of management, if she knew; and how she will rejoice that Annie still may hope."

"Ah, Jo, mothers may differ in their management, but the hope is the same in all,—the desire to see their children happy. Meg is so, and I am content with her success. You I leave to enjoy your liberty till you tire of it; for only then will you find that there is something sweeter. Amy is my chief care now, but her good sense will help her. For Beth, I indulge no hopes except that she may be well. By the way, she seems brighter this last day or two. Have you spoken to her?"

"Yes; she owned she had a trouble, and promised to tell me by and by. I said no more, for I think I know it;" and Jo told her little story.

Mrs. March shook her head, and did not take so romantic a view of the case, but looked grave, and repeated her opinion that, for Laurie's sake, Jo should go away for a time.

"Let us say nothing about it to him till the plan is settled; then I'll run away before he can collect his wits and be tragical. Beth must think I'm going to please myself, as I am, for I can't talk about Laurie to her; but she can pet and comfort him after I'm gone, and so cure him of this romantic notion. He's been through so many little trials of the sort, he's used to it, and will soon get over his love-lornity."

Jo spoke hopefully, but could not rid herself of the foreboding fear that this "little trial" would be harder than the others, and that Laurie would not get over his "love-lornity" as easily as heretofore.

The plan was talked over in a family council, and agreed upon; for Mrs. Kirke gladly accepted Jo, and promised to make a pleasant home for her. The teaching would render her independent; and such leisure as she got might be made profitable by writing, while the new scenes and society would be both useful and agreeable. Jo liked the prospect and was eager to be gone, for the home-nest was growing too narrow for her restless nature and adventurous spirit. When all was settled, with fear and trembling she told Laurie; but to her surprise 402 he took it very quietly. He had been graver than usual of late, but very pleasant; and, when jokingly accused of turning over a new leaf, he answered soberly, "So I am; and I mean this one shall stay turned."

Jo was very much relieved that one of his virtuous fits should come on just then, and made her preparations with a lightened heart,—for Beth seemed more cheerful,—and hoped she was doing the best for all.

"One thing I leave to your especial care," she said, the night before she left.

"You mean your papers?" asked Beth.

"No, my boy. Be very good to him, won't you?"

"Of course I will; but I can't fill your place, and he'll miss you sadly."

"It won't hurt him; so remember, I leave him in your charge, to plague, pet, and keep in order."

"I'll do my best, for your sake," promised Beth, wondering why Jo looked at her so queerly.

When Laurie said "Good-by," he whispered significantly, "It won't do a bit of good, Jo. My eye is on you; so mind what you do, or I'll come and bring you home."

403

XXXIII.

JO'S JOURNAL.

"New York, November.

"Dear Marmee and Beth,—

"I'm going to write you a regular volume, for I've got heaps to tell, though I'm not a fine young lady travelling on the continent. When I lost sight of father's dear old face, I felt a trifle blue, and might have shed a briny drop or two, if an Irish lady with four small children, all crying more or less, hadn't diverted my mind; for I amused myself by dropping gingerbread nuts over the seat every time they opened their mouths to roar.

"Soon the sun came out, and taking it as a good omen, I cleared up likewise, and enjoyed my journey with all my heart.

"Mrs. Kirke welcomed me so kindly I felt at home at once, even in that big house full of strangers. She gave me a funny little sky-parlor—all 404 she had; but there is a stove in it, and a nice table in a sunny window, so I can sit here and write whenever I like. A fine view and a church-tower opposite atone for the many stairs, and I took a fancy to my den on the spot. The nursery, where I am to teach and sew, is a pleasant room next Mrs. Kirke's private parlor, and the two little girls are pretty children,—rather spoilt, I fancy, but they took to me after telling them 'The Seven Bad Pigs;' and I've no doubt I shall make a model governess.

"I am to have my meals with the children, if I prefer it to the great table, and for the present I do, for I am bashful, though no one will believe it.

"'Now, my dear, make yourself at home,' said Mrs. K. in her motherly way; 'I'm on the drive from morning to night, as you may suppose with such a family; but a great anxiety will be off my mind if I know the children are safe with you. My rooms are always open to you, and your own shall be as comfortable as I can make it. There are some pleasant people in the house if you feel sociable, and your evenings are always free. Come to me if anything goes wrong, and be as happy as you can. There's the tea-bell; I must run and change my cap;' and off she bustled, leaving me to settle myself in my new nest.

"As I went downstairs, soon after, I saw something I liked. The flights are very long in this tall house, and as I stood waiting at the head of the third one for a little servant girl to lumber up, I saw a gentleman come along behind her, take the heavy hod of coal out of her hand, carry it all the way up, put it down at a door near by, and walk away, saying, with a kind nod and a foreign accent,—

"'It goes better so. The little back is too young to haf such heaviness.'

"Wasn't it good of him? I like such things, for, as father says, trifles show character. When I mentioned it to Mrs. K., that evening, she laughed, and said,—

"'That must have been Professor Bhaer; he's always doing things of that sort.'

"Mrs. K. told me he was from Berlin; very learned and good, but poor as a church-mouse, and gives lessons to support himself and two 405 little orphan nephews whom he is educating here, according to the wishes of his sister, who married an American. Not a very romantic story, but it interested me; and I was glad to hear that Mrs. K. lends him her parlor for some of his scholars. There is a glass door between it and the nursery, and I mean to peep at him, and then I'll tell you how he looks. He's almost forty, so it's no harm, Marmee.

"After tea and a go-to-bed romp with the little girls, I attacked the big work-basket, and had a quiet evening chatting with my new friend. I shall keep a journal-letter, and send it once a week; so good-night, and more to-morrow."

"Tuesday Eve.

"Had a lively time in my seminary, this morning, for the children acted like Sancho; and at one time I really thought I should shake them all round. Some good angel inspired me to try gymnastics, and I kept it up till they were glad to sit down and keep still. After luncheon, the girl took them out for a walk, and I went to my needle-work, like little Mabel, 'with a willing mind.' I was thanking my stars that I'd learned to make nice button-holes, when the parlor-door opened and shut, and some one began to hum,—

'Kennst du das land,'

like a big bumble-bee. It was dreadfully improper, I know, but I couldn't resist the temptation; and lifting one end of the curtain before the glass door, I peeped in. Professor Bhaer was there; and while he arranged his books, I took a good look at him. A regular German,—rather stout, with brown hair tumbled all over his head, a bushy beard, good nose, the kindest eyes I ever saw, and a splendid big voice that does one's ears good, after our sharp or slipshod American gabble. His clothes were rusty, his hands were large, and he hadn't a really handsome feature in his face, except his beautiful teeth; yet I liked him, for he had a fine head; his linen was very nice, and he looked like a gentleman, though two buttons were off his coat, and there was a patch on one shoe. He looked sober in spite of his humming, till he went to the window to turn the hyacinth bulbs toward the sun, and stroke the cat, who received him like an old friend. Then he smiled; and when a tap came at the door, called out in a loud, brisk tone,—

406 "'Herein!'

"I was just going to run, when I caught sight of a morsel of a child carrying a big book, and stopped to see what was going on.

"'Me wants my Bhaer,' said the mite, slamming down her book, and running to meet him.

"'Thou shalt haf thy Bhaer; come, then, and take a goot hug from him, my Tina,' said the Professor, catching her up, with a laugh, and holding her so high over his head that she had to stoop her little face to kiss him.

"'Now me mus tuddy my lessin,' went on the funny little thing; so he put her up at the table, opened the great dictionary she had brought, and gave her a paper and pencil, and she scribbled away, turning a leaf now and then, and passing her little fat finger down the page, as if finding a word, so soberly that I nearly betrayed myself by a laugh, while Mr. Bhaer stood stroking her pretty hair, with a fatherly look, that made me think she must be his own, though she looked more French than German.

"Another knock and the appearance of two young ladies sent me back to my work, and there I virtuously remained through all the noise and gabbling that went on next door. One of the girls kept laughing affectedly, and saying 'Now Professor,' in a 407 coquettish tone, and the other pronounced her German with an accent that must have made it hard for him to keep sober.

"Both seemed to try his patience sorely; for more than once I heard him say emphatically, 'No, no, it is not so; you haf not attend to what I say;' and once there was a loud rap, as if he struck the table with his book, followed by the despairing exclamation, 'Prut! it all goes bad this day.'

"Poor man, I pitied him; and when the girls were gone, took just one more peep, to see if he survived it. He seemed to have thrown himself back in his chair, tired out, and sat there with his eyes shut till the clock struck two, when he jumped up, put his books in his pocket, as if ready for another lesson, and, taking little Tina, who had fallen asleep on the sofa, in his arms, he carried her quietly away. I fancy he has a hard life of it.

"Mrs. Kirke asked me if I wouldn't go down to the five o'clock dinner; and, feeling a little bit homesick, I thought I would, just to see what sort of people are under the same roof with me. So I made myself respectable, and tried to slip in behind Mrs. Kirke; but as she is short, and I'm tall, my efforts at concealment were rather a failure. She gave me a seat by her, and after my face cooled off, I plucked up courage, and looked about me. The long table was full, and every one intent on getting their dinner,—the gentlemen especially, who seemed to be eating on time, for they bolted in every sense of the word, vanishing as soon as they were done. There was the usual assortment of young men absorbed in themselves; young couples absorbed in each other; married ladies in their babies, and old gentlemen in politics. I don't think I shall care to have much to do with any of them, except one sweet-faced maiden lady, who looks as if she had something in her.

"Cast away at the very bottom of the table was the Professor, shouting answers to the questions of a very inquisitive, deaf old gentleman on one side, and talking philosophy with a Frenchman on the other. If Amy had been here, she'd have turned her back on him forever, because, sad to relate, he had a great appetite, and shovelled in his dinner in a manner which would have horrified 'her ladyship.' I didn't mind, for I like 'to see folks eat with a relish,' as Hannah 408 says, and the poor man must have needed a deal of food after teaching idiots all day.

"As I went upstairs after dinner, two of the young men were settling their hats before the hall-mirror, and I heard one say low to the other, 'Who's the new party?'

"'Governess, or something of that sort.'

"'What the deuce is she at our table for?'

"'Friend of the old lady's.'

"'Handsome head, but no style.'

"'Not a bit of it. Give us a light and come on.'

"I felt angry at first, and then I didn't care, for a governess is as good as a clerk, and I've got sense, if I haven't style, which is more than some people have, judging from the remarks of the elegant beings who clattered away, smoking like bad chimneys. I hate ordinary people!"

"Thursday.

"Yesterday was a quiet day, spent in teaching, sewing, and writing in my little room, which is very cosey, with a light and fire. I picked up a few bits of news, and was introduced to the Professor. It seems that Tina is the child of the Frenchwoman who does the fine ironing in the laundry here. The little thing has lost her heart to Mr. Bhaer, and follows him about the house like a dog whenever he is at home, which delights him, as he is very fond of children, though a 'bacheldore.' Kitty and Minnie Kirke likewise regard him with affection, and tell all sorts of stories about the plays he invents, the presents he brings, and the splendid tales he tells. The young men quiz him, it seems, call him Old Fritz, Lager Beer, Ursa Major, and make all manner of jokes on his name. But he enjoys it like a boy, Mrs. K. says, and takes it so good-naturedly that they all like him, in spite of his foreign ways.

"The maiden lady is a Miss Norton,—rich, cultivated, and kind. She spoke to me at dinner to-day (for I went to table again, it's such fun to watch people), and asked me to come and see her at her room. She has fine books and pictures, knows interesting persons, and seems friendly; so I shall make myself agreeable, for I do want to get into good society, only it isn't the same sort that Amy likes.

409 "I was in our parlor last evening, when Mr. Bhaer came in with some newspapers for Mrs. Kirke. She wasn't there, but Minnie, who is a little old woman, introduced me very prettily: 'This is mamma's friend, Miss March.'

"'Yes; and she's jolly and we like her lots,' added Kitty, who is an enfant terrible.

"We both bowed, and then we laughed, for the prim introduction and the blunt addition were rather a comical contrast.

"'Ah, yes, I hear these naughty ones go to vex you, Mees Marsch. If so again, call at me and I come,' he said, with a threatening frown that delighted the little wretches.

"I promised I would, and he departed; but it seems as if I was doomed to see a good deal of him, for to-day, as I passed his door on my way out, by accident I knocked against it with my umbrella. It flew open, and there he stood in his dressing gown, with a big blue sock on one hand, and a darning-needle in the other; he didn't seem at all ashamed of it, for when I explained and hurried on, he waved his hand, sock and all, saying in his loud, cheerful way,—

"'You haf a fine day to make your walk. Bon voyage, mademoiselle.'

"I laughed all the way downstairs; but it was a little pathetic, also, to think of the poor man having to mend his own clothes. The 410 German gentlemen embroider, I know; but darning hose is another thing, and not so pretty."

"Saturday.

"Nothing has happened to write about, except a call on Miss Norton, who has a room full of lovely things, and who was very charming, for she showed me all her treasures, and asked me if I would sometimes go with her to lectures and concerts, as her escort,—if I enjoyed them. She put it as a favor, but I'm sure Mrs. Kirke has told her about us, and she does it out of kindness to me. I'm as proud as Lucifer, but such favors from such people don't burden me, and I accepted gratefully.

"When I got back to the nursery there was such an uproar in the parlor that I looked in; and there was Mr. Bhaer down on his hands and knees, with Tina on his back, Kitty leading him with a jump-rope, and Minnie feeding two small boys with seed-cakes, as they roared and ramped in cages built of chairs.

"'We are playing nargerie,' explained Kitty.

"'Dis is mine effalunt!' added Tina, holding on by the Professor's hair.

"'Mamma always allows us to do what we like Saturday afternoon, when Franz and Emil come, doesn't she, Mr. Bhaer?' said Minnie.

411 "The 'effalunt' sat up, looking as much in earnest as any of them, and said soberly to me,—

"'I gif you my wort it is so. If we make too large a noise you shall say "Hush!" to us, and we go more softly.'

"I promised to do so, but left the door open, and enjoyed the fun as much as they did,—for a more glorious frolic I never witnessed. They played tag and soldiers, danced and sung, and when it began to grow dark they all piled on to the sofa about the Professor, while he told charming fairy stories of the storks on the chimney-tops, and the little 'kobolds,' who ride the snow-flakes as they fall. I wish Americans were as simple and natural as Germans, don't you?

"I'm so fond of writing, I should go spinning on forever if motives of economy didn't stop me, for though I've used thin paper and written fine, I tremble to think of the stamps this long letter will need. Pray forward Amy's as soon as you can spare them. My small news will sound very flat after her splendors, but you will like them, I know. Is Teddy studying so hard that he can't find time to write to his friends? Take good care of him for me, Beth, and tell me all about the babies, and give heaps of love to every one.

"From your faithful

Jo.

"P. S. On reading over my letter it strikes me as rather Bhaery; but I am always interested in odd people, and I really had nothing else to write about. Bless you!"

"December.

"My Precious Betsey,—

"As this is to be a scribble-scrabble letter, I direct it to you, for it may amuse you, and give you some idea of my goings on; for, though quiet, they are rather amusing, for which, oh, be joyful! After what Amy would call Herculaneum efforts, in the way of mental and moral agriculture, my young ideas begin to shoot and my little twigs to bend as I could wish. They are not so interesting to me as Tina and the boys, but I do my duty by them, and they are fond of me. Franz and Emil are jolly little lads, quite after my own heart; for the mixture of German and American spirit in them produces a constant state of effervescence. Saturday afternoons are riotous times, whether spent in the house or out; for on pleasant days they all go to walk, 412 like a seminary, with the Professor and myself to keep order; and then such fun!

"We are very good friends now, and I've begun to take lessons. I really couldn't help it, and it all came about in such a droll way that I must tell you. To begin at the beginning, Mrs. Kirke called to me, one day, as I passed Mr. Bhaer's room, where she was rummaging.

"'Did you ever see such a den, my dear? Just come and help me put these books to rights, for I've turned everything upside down, trying to discover what he has done with the six new handkerchiefs I gave him not long ago.'

"I went in, and while we worked I looked about me, for it was 'a den,' to be sure. Books and papers everywhere; a broken meerschaum, and an old flute over the mantel-piece as if done with; a ragged bird, without any tail, chirped on one window-seat, and a box of white mice adorned the other; half-finished boats and bits of string lay among the manuscripts; dirty little boots stood drying before the fire; and traces of the dearly beloved boys, for whom he makes a slave of himself, were to be seen all over the room. After a grand rummage three of the missing articles were found,—one over the bird-cage, one covered with ink, and a third burnt brown, having been used as a holder.

"'Such a man!' laughed good-natured Mrs. K., as she put the relics in the rag-bag. 'I suppose the others are torn up to rig ships, bandage cut fingers, or make kite-tails. It's dreadful, but I can't scold him: he's so absent-minded and good-natured, he lets those boys ride over him rough-shod. I agreed to do his washing and mending, but he forgets to give out his things and I forget to look them over, so he comes to a sad pass sometimes.'

"'Let me mend them,' said I. 'I don't mind it, and he needn't know. I'd like to,—he's so kind to me about bringing my letters and lending books.'

"So I have got his things in order, and knit heels into two pairs of the socks,—for they were boggled out of shape with his queer darns. Nothing was said, and I hoped he wouldn't find it out, but one day last week he caught me at it. Hearing the lessons he gives to others 413 has interested and amused me so much that I took a fancy to learn; for Tina runs in and out, leaving the door open, and I can hear. I had been sitting near this door, finishing off the last sock, and trying to understand what he said to a new scholar, who is as stupid as I am. The girl had gone, and I thought he had also, it was so still, and I was busily gabbling over a verb, and rocking to and fro in a most absurd way, when a little crow made me look up, and there was Mr. Bhaer looking and laughing quietly, while he made signs to Tina not to betray him.

"'So!' he said, as I stopped and stared like a goose, 'you peep at me, I peep at you, and that is not bad; but see, I am not pleasanting when I say, haf you a wish for German?'

"'Yes; but you are too busy. I am too stupid to learn,' I blundered out, as red as a peony.

"'Prut! we will make the time, and we fail not to find the sense. At efening I shall gif a little lesson with much gladness; for, look you, Mees Marsch, I haf this debt to pay,' and he pointed to my work. 'Yes, they say to one another, these so kind ladies, "he is a stupid old fellow; he will see not what we do; he will never opserve that his sock-heels go not in holes any more, he will think his buttons grow out new when they fall, and believe that strings make theirselves." Ah! but I haf an eye, and I see much. I haf a heart, and I feel the thanks for this. Come, a little lesson then and now, or no more good fairy works for me and mine.'

"Of course I couldn't say anything after that, and as it really is a splendid opportunity, I made the bargain, and we began. I took four lessons, and then I stuck fast in a grammatical bog. The Professor was very patient with me, but it must have been torment to him, and now and then he'd look at me with such an expression of mild despair that it was a toss-up with me whether to laugh or cry. I tried both ways; and when it came to a sniff of utter mortification and woe, he just threw the grammar on to the floor, and marched out of the room. I felt myself disgraced and deserted forever, but didn't blame him a particle, and was scrambling my papers together, meaning to rush upstairs and shake myself hard, when in he came, as brisk and beaming as if I'd covered myself with glory.

414 "'Now we shall try a new way. You and I will read these pleasant little Märchen together, and dig no more in that dry book, that goes in the corner for making us trouble.'

"He spoke so kindly, and opened Hans Andersen's fairy tales so invitingly before me, that I was more ashamed than ever, and went at my lesson in a neck-or-nothing style that seemed to amuse him immensely. I forgot my bashfulness, and pegged away (no other word will express it) with all my might, tumbling over long words, pronouncing according to the inspiration of the minute, and doing my very best. When I finished reading my first page, and stopped for breath, he clapped his hands and cried out, in his hearty way, 'Das ist gute! Now we go well! My turn. I do him in German; gif me your ear.' And away he went, rumbling out the words with his strong voice, and a relish which was good to see as well as hear. Fortunately the story was the 'Constant Tin Soldier,' which is droll, you know, so I could laugh,—and I did,—though I didn't understand half he read, for I couldn't help it, he was so earnest, I so excited, and the whole thing so comical.

"After that we got on better, and now I read my lessons pretty well; for this way of studying suits me, and I can see that the grammar gets tucked into the tales and poetry as one gives pills in jelly. I like it very much, and he doesn't seem tired of it yet,—which is very good of him, isn't it? I mean to give him something on Christmas, for I dare not offer money. Tell me something nice, Marmee.

"I'm glad Laurie seems so happy and busy, that he has given up smoking, and lets his hair grow. You see Beth manages him better than I did. I'm not jealous, dear; do your best, only don't make a saint of him. I'm afraid I couldn't like him without a spice of human naughtiness. Read him bits of my letters. I haven't time to write much, and that will do just as well. Thank Heaven Beth continues so comfortable."

"January.

"A Happy New Year to you all, my dearest family, which of course includes Mr. L. and a young man by the name of Teddy. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed your Christmas bundle, for I didn't get it till night, and had given up hoping. Your letter came in the morning, 415 but you said nothing about a parcel, meaning it for a surprise; so I was disappointed, for I'd had a 'kind of a feeling' that you wouldn't forget me. I felt a little low in my mind, as I sat up in my room, after tea; and when the big, muddy, battered-looking bundle was brought to me, I just hugged it, and pranced. It was so homey and refreshing, that I sat down on the floor and read and looked and ate and laughed and cried, in my usual absurd way. The things were just what I wanted, and all the better for being made instead of bought. Beth's new 'ink-bib' was capital; and Hannah's box of hard gingerbread will be a treasure. I'll be sure and wear the nice flannels you sent, Marmee, and read carefully the books father has marked. Thank you all, heaps and heaps!

"Speaking of books reminds me that I'm getting rich in that line for, on New Year's Day, Mr. Bhaer gave me a fine Shakespeare. It is one he values much, and I've often admired it, set up in the place of honor, with his German Bible, Plato, Homer, and Milton; so you may imagine how I felt when he brought it down, without its cover, and showed me my name in it, 'from my friend Friedrich Bhaer.'

416 "'You say often you wish a library: here I gif you one; for between these lids (he meant covers) is many books in one. Read him well, and he will help you much; for the study of character in this book will help you to read it in the world and paint it with your pen.'

"I thanked him as well as I could, and talk now about 'my library,' as if I had a hundred books. I never knew how much there was in Shakespeare before; but then I never had a Bhaer to explain it to me. Now don't laugh at his horrid name; it isn't pronounced either Bear or Beer, as people will say it, but something between the two, as only Germans can give it. I'm glad you both like what I tell you about him, and hope you will know him some day. Mother would admire his warm heart, father his wise head. I admire both, and feel rich in my new 'friend Friedrich Bhaer.'

"Not having much money, or knowing what he'd like, I got several little things, and put them about the room, where he would find them unexpectedly. They were useful, pretty, or funny,—a new standish on his table, a little vase for his flower,—he always has one, or a bit of green in a glass, to keep him fresh, he says,—and a holder for his blower, so that he needn't burn up what Amy calls 'mouchoirs.' I made it like those Beth invented,—a big butterfly with a fat body, and black and yellow wings, worsted feelers, and bead eyes. It took his fancy immensely, and he put it on his mantel-piece as an article of vertu; so it was rather a failure after all. Poor as he is, he didn't forget a servant or a child in the house; and not a soul here, from the French laundry-woman to Miss Norton, forgot him. I was so glad of that.

"They got up a masquerade, and had a gay time New Year's Eve. I didn't mean to go down, having no dress; but at the last minute, Mrs. Kirke remembered some old brocades, and Miss Norton lent me lace and feathers; so I dressed up as Mrs. Malaprop, and sailed in with a mask on. No one knew me, for I disguised my voice, and no one dreamed of the silent, haughty Miss March (for they think I am very stiff and cool, most of them; and so I am to whipper-snappers) could dance and dress, and burst out into a 'nice derangement of epitaphs, like an allegory on the banks of the Nile.' I enjoyed it 417 very much; and when we unmasked, it was fun to see them stare at me. I heard one of the young men tell another that he knew I'd been an actress; in fact, he thought he remembered seeing me at one of the minor theatres. Meg will relish that joke. Mr. Bhaer was Nick Bottom, and Tina was Titania,—a perfect little fairy in his arms. To see them dance was 'quite a landscape,' to use a Teddyism.

"I had a very happy New Year, after all; and when I thought it over in my room, I felt as if I was getting on a little in spite of my many failures; for I'm cheerful all the time now, work with a will, and take more interest in other people than I used to, which is satisfactory. Bless you all! Ever your loving

Jo."

XXXIV. A Friend.

418

XXXIV.

A FRIEND.

Though very happy in the social atmosphere about her, and very busy with the daily work that earned her bread, and made it sweeter for the effort, Jo still found time for literary labors. The purpose which now took possession of her was a natural one to a poor and ambitious girl; but the means she took to gain her end were not the best. She saw that money conferred power: money and power, therefore, she resolved to have; not to be used for herself alone, but for those whom she loved more than self.

The dream of filling home with comforts, giving Beth everything she wanted, from strawberries in winter to an organ in her bedroom; going abroad herself, and always having more than enough, so that she 419 might indulge in the luxury of charity, had been for years Jo's most cherished castle in the air.

The prize-story experience had seemed to open a way which might, after long travelling and much up-hill work lead to this delightful château en Espagne. But the novel disaster quenched her courage for a time, for public opinion is a giant which has frightened stouter-hearted Jacks on bigger bean-stalks than hers. Like that immortal hero, she reposed awhile after the first attempt, which resulted in a tumble, and the least lovely of the giant's treasures, if I remember rightly. But the "up again and take another" spirit was as strong in Jo as in Jack; so she scrambled up, on the shady side this time, and got more booty, but nearly left behind her what was far more precious than the money-bags.

She took to writing sensation stories; for in those dark ages, even all-perfect America read rubbish. She told no one, but concocted a "thrilling tale," and boldly carried it herself to Mr. Dashwood, editor of the "Weekly Volcano." She had never read "Sartor Resartus," but she had a womanly instinct that clothes possess an influence more powerful over many than the worth of character or the magic of manners. So she dressed herself in her best, and, trying to persuade herself that she was neither excited nor nervous, bravely climbed two pairs of dark and dirty stairs to find herself in a disorderly room, a cloud of cigar-smoke, and the presence of three gentlemen, sitting with their heels rather higher than their hats, which articles of dress none of them took the trouble to remove on her appearance. Somewhat daunted by this reception, Jo hesitated on the threshold, murmuring in much embarrassment,—

"Excuse me, I was looking for the 'Weekly Volcano' office; I wished to see Mr. Dashwood."

Down went the highest pair of heels, up rose the smokiest gentleman, and, carefully cherishing his cigar between his fingers, he advanced, with a nod, and a countenance expressive of nothing but sleep. Feeling that she must get through the matter somehow, Jo produced her manuscript, and, blushing redder and redder with each sentence, blundered out fragments of the little speech carefully prepared for the occasion.

420 "A friend of mine desired me to offer—a story—just as an experiment—would like your opinion—be glad to write more if this suits."

While she blushed and blundered, Mr. Dashwood had taken the manuscript, and was turning over the leaves with a pair of rather dirty fingers, and casting critical glances up and down the neat pages.

"Not a first attempt, I take it?" observing that the pages were numbered, covered only on one side, and not tied up with a ribbon,—sure sign of a novice.

"No, sir; she has had some experience, and got a prize for a tale in the 'Blarneystone Banner.'"

"Oh, did she?" and Mr. Dashwood gave Jo a quick look, which seemed to take note of everything she had on, from the bow in her bonnet to the buttons on her boots. "Well, you can leave it, if you like. We've more of this sort of thing on hand than we know what to do with at present; but I'll run my eye over it, and give you an answer next week."

Now, Jo did not like to leave it, for Mr. Dashwood didn't suit her at all; but, under the circumstances, there was nothing for her to do but bow and walk away, looking particularly tall and dignified, as she was apt to do when nettled or abashed. Just then she was both; for it was perfectly evident, from the knowing glances exchanged among the gentlemen, that her little fiction of "my friend" was considered a good joke; and a laugh, produced by some inaudible remark of the editor, as he closed the door, completed her discomfiture. Half resolving never to return, she went home, and worked off her irritation by stitching pinafores vigorously; and in an hour or two was cool enough to laugh over the scene, and long for next week.

When she went again, Mr. Dashwood was alone, whereat she rejoiced; Mr. Dashwood was much wider awake than before, which was agreeable; and Mr. Dashwood was not too deeply absorbed in a cigar to remember his manners: so the second interview was much more comfortable than the first.

"We'll take this" (editors never say I), "if you don't object to a few alterations. It's too long, but omitting the passages I've marked will make it just the right length," he said, in a business-like tone.

421 Jo hardly knew her own MS. again, so crumpled and underscored were its pages and paragraphs; but, feeling as a tender parent might on being asked to cut off her baby's legs in order that it might fit into a new cradle, she looked at the marked passages, and was surprised to find that all the moral reflections—which she had carefully put in as ballast for much romance—had been stricken out.

"But, sir, I thought every story should have some sort of a moral, so I took care to have a few of my sinners repent."

Mr. Dashwood's editorial gravity relaxed into a smile, for Jo had forgotten her "friend," and spoken as only an author could.

"People want to be amused, not preached at, you know. Morals don't sell nowadays;" which was not quite a correct statement, by the way.

"You think it would do with these alterations, then?"

"Yes; it's a new plot, and pretty well worked up—language good, and so on," was Mr. Dashwood's affable reply.

"What do you—that is, what compensation—" began Jo, not exactly knowing how to express herself.

"Oh, yes, well, we give from twenty-five to thirty for things of this sort. Pay when it comes out," returned Mr. Dashwood, as if that point had escaped him; such trifles often do escape the editorial mind, it is said.

"Very well; you can have it," said Jo, handing back the story, with a satisfied air; for, after the dollar-a-column work, even twenty-five seemed good pay.

"Shall I tell my friend you will take another if she has one better than this?" asked Jo, unconscious of her little slip of the tongue, and emboldened by her success.

"Well, we'll look at it; can't promise to take it. Tell her to make it short and spicy, and never mind the moral. What name would your friend like to put to it?" in a careless tone.

"None at all, if you please; she doesn't wish her name to appear, and has no nom de plume," said Jo, blushing in spite of herself.

"Just as she likes, of course. The tale will be out next week; will you call for the money, or shall I send it?" asked Mr. Dashwood, who felt a natural desire to know who his new contributor might be.

422 "I'll call. Good morning, sir."

As she departed, Mr. Dashwood put up his feet, with the graceful remark, "Poor and proud, as usual, but she'll do."

Following Mr. Dashwood's directions, and making Mrs. Northbury her model, Jo rashly took a plunge into the frothy sea of sensational literature; but, thanks to the life-preserver thrown her by a friend, she came up again, not much the worse for her ducking.

Like most young scribblers, she went abroad for her characters and scenery; and banditti, counts, gypsies, nuns, and duchesses appeared upon her stage, and played their parts with as much accuracy and spirit as could be expected. Her readers were not particular about such trifles as grammar, punctuation, and probability, and Mr. Dashwood graciously permitted her to fill his columns at the lowest prices, not thinking it necessary to tell her that the real cause of his hospitality was the fact that one of his hacks, on being offered higher wages, had basely left him in the lurch.

She soon became interested in her work, for her emaciated purse grew stout, and the little hoard she was making to take Beth to the mountains next summer grew slowly but surely as the weeks passed. One thing disturbed her satisfaction, and that was that she did not tell them at home. She had a feeling that father and mother would not approve, and preferred to have her own way first, and beg pardon afterward. It was easy to keep her secret, for no name appeared with her stories; Mr. Dashwood had, of course, found it out very soon, but promised to be dumb; and, for a wonder, kept his word.

She thought it would do her no harm, for she sincerely meant to write nothing of which she should be ashamed, and quieted all pricks of conscience by anticipations of the happy minute when she should show her earnings and laugh over her well-kept secret.

But Mr. Dashwood rejected any but thrilling tales; and, as thrills could not be produced except by harrowing up the souls of the readers, history and romance, land and sea, science and art, police records and lunatic asylums, had to be ransacked for the purpose. Jo soon found that her innocent experience had given her but few glimpses of the tragic world which underlies society; so, regarding it in a business light, she set about supplying her deficiencies with characteristic 423 energy. Eager to find material for stories, and bent on making them original in plot, if not masterly in execution, she searched newspapers for accidents, incidents, and crimes; she excited the suspicions of public librarians by asking for works on poisons; she studied faces in the street, and characters, good, bad, and indifferent, all about her; she delved in the dust of ancient times for facts or fictions so old that they were as good as new, and introduced herself to folly, sin, and misery, as well as her limited opportunities allowed. She thought she was prospering finely; but, unconsciously, she was beginning to desecrate some of the womanliest attributes of a woman's character. She was living in bad society; and, imaginary though it was, its influence affected her, for she was feeding heart and fancy on dangerous and unsubstantial food, and was fast brushing the innocent bloom from her nature by a premature acquaintance with the darker side of life, which comes soon enough to all of us.

She was beginning to feel rather than see this, for much describing of other people's passions and feelings set her to studying and speculating about her own,—a morbid amusement, in which healthy young minds do not voluntarily indulge. Wrong-doing always brings its own punishment; and, when Jo most needed hers, she got it.

I don't know whether the study of Shakespeare helped her to read character, or the natural instinct of a woman for what was honest, brave, and strong; but while endowing her imaginary heroes with every perfection under the sun, Jo was discovering a live hero, who interested her in spite of many human imperfections. Mr. Bhaer, in one of their conversations, had advised her to study simple, true, and lovely characters, wherever she found them, as good training for a writer. Jo took him at his word, for she coolly turned round and studied him,—a proceeding which would have much surprised him, had he known it, for the worthy Professor was very humble in his own conceit.

Why everybody liked him was what puzzled Jo, at first. He was neither rich nor great, young nor handsome; in no respect what is called fascinating, imposing, or brilliant; and yet he was as attractive as a genial fire, and people seemed to gather about him as naturally as about a warm hearth. He was poor, yet always appeared to be giving 424 something away; a stranger, yet every one was his friend; no longer young, but as happy-hearted as a boy; plain and peculiar, yet his face looked beautiful to many, and his oddities were freely forgiven for his sake. Jo often watched him, trying to discover the charm, and, at last, decided that it was benevolence which worked the miracle. If he had any sorrow, "it sat with its head under its wing," and he turned only his sunny side to the world. There were lines upon his forehead, but Time seemed to have touched him gently, remembering how kind he was to others. The pleasant curves about his mouth were the memorials of many friendly words and cheery laughs; his eyes were never cold or hard, and his big hand had a warm, strong grasp that was more expressive than words.

His very clothes seemed to partake of the hospitable nature of the wearer. They looked as if they were at ease, and liked to make him comfortable; his capacious waistcoat was suggestive of a large heart underneath; his rusty coat had a social air, and the baggy pockets plainly proved that little hands often went in empty and came out full; his very boots were benevolent, and his collars never stiff and raspy like other people's.

"That's it!" said Jo to herself, when she at length discovered that genuine good-will towards one's fellow-men could beautify and dignify even a stout German teacher, who shovelled in his dinner, darned his own socks, and was burdened with the name of Bhaer.

Jo valued goodness highly, but she also possessed a most feminine respect for intellect, and a little discovery which she made about the Professor added much to her regard for him. He never spoke of himself, and no one ever knew that in his native city he had been a man much honored and esteemed for learning and integrity, till a countryman came to see him, and, in a conversation with Miss Norton, divulged the pleasing fact. From her Jo learned it, and liked it all the better because Mr. Bhaer had never told it. She felt proud to know that he was an honored Professor in Berlin, though only a poor language-master in America; and his homely, hard-working life was much beautified by the spice of romance which this discovery gave it.

Another and a better gift than intellect was shown her in a most unexpected manner. Miss Norton had the entrée into literary society, 425 which Jo would have had no chance of seeing but for her. The solitary woman felt an interest in the ambitious girl, and kindly conferred many favors of this sort both on Jo and the Professor. She took them with her, one night, to a select symposium, held in honor of several celebrities.

Jo went prepared to bow down and adore the mighty ones whom she had worshipped with youthful enthusiasm afar off. But her reverence for genius received a severe shock that night, and it took her some time to recover from the discovery that the great creatures were only men and women after all. Imagine her dismay, on stealing a glance of timid admiration at the poet whose lines suggested an ethereal being fed on "spirit, fire, and dew," to behold him devouring his supper with an ardor which flushed his intellectual countenance. Turning as from a fallen idol, she made other discoveries which rapidly dispelled her romantic illusions. The great novelist vibrated between two decanters with the regularity of a pendulum; the famous divine flirted openly with one of the Madame de Staëls of the age, who looked daggers at another Corinne, who was amiably satirizing 426 her, after out-manœuvring her in efforts to absorb the profound philosopher, who imbibed tea Johnsonianly and appeared to slumber, the loquacity of the lady rendering speech impossible. The scientific celebrities, forgetting their mollusks and glacial periods, gossiped about art, while devoting themselves to oysters and ices with characteristic energy; the young musician, who was charming the city like a second Orpheus, talked horses; and the specimen of the British nobility present happened to be the most ordinary man of the party.

Before the evening was half over, Jo felt so completely désillusionée, that she sat down in a corner to recover herself. Mr. Bhaer soon joined her, looking rather out of his element, and presently several of the philosophers, each mounted on his hobby, came ambling up to hold an intellectual tournament in the recess. The conversation was miles beyond Jo's comprehension, but she enjoyed it, though Kant and Hegel were unknown gods, the Subjective and Objective unintelligible terms; and the only thing "evolved from her inner consciousness," was a bad headache after it was all over. It dawned upon her gradually that the world was being picked to pieces, and put together on new, and, according to the talkers, on infinitely better principles than before; that religion was in a fair way to be reasoned into nothingness, and intellect was to be the only God. Jo knew nothing about philosophy or metaphysics of any sort, but a curious excitement, half pleasurable, half painful, came over her, as she listened with a sense of being turned adrift into time and space, like a young balloon out on a holiday.

She looked round to see how the Professor liked it, and found him looking at her with the grimmest expression she had ever seen him wear. He shook his head, and beckoned her to come away; but she was fascinated, just then, by the freedom of Speculative Philosophy, and kept her seat, trying to find out what the wise gentlemen intended to rely upon after they had annihilated all the old beliefs.

Now, Mr. Bhaer was a diffident man, and slow to offer his own opinions, not because they were unsettled, but too sincere and earnest to be lightly spoken. As he glanced from Jo to several other young people, attracted by the brilliancy of the philosophic pyrotechnics, he knit his brows, and longed to speak, fearing that some inflammable 427 young soul would be led astray by the rockets, to find, when the display was over, that they had only an empty stick or a scorched hand.

He bore it as long as he could; but when he was appealed to for an opinion, he blazed up with honest indignation, and defended religion with all the eloquence of truth,—an eloquence which made his broken English musical, and his plain face beautiful. He had a hard fight, for the wise men argued well; but he didn't know when he was beaten, and stood to his colors like a man. Somehow, as he talked, the world got right again to Jo; the old beliefs, that had lasted so long, seemed better than the new; God was not a blind force, and immortality was not a pretty fable, but a blessed fact. She felt as if she had solid ground under her feet again; and when Mr. Bhaer paused, out-talked, but not one whit convinced, Jo wanted to clap her hands and thank him.

She did neither; but she remembered this scene, and gave the Professor her heartiest respect, for she knew it cost him an effort to speak out then and there, because his conscience would not let him be silent. She began to see that character is a better possession than money, rank, intellect, or beauty; and to feel that if greatness is what a wise man has defined it to be, "truth, reverence, and good-will," then her friend Friedrich Bhaer was not only good, but great.

This belief strengthened daily. She valued his esteem, she coveted his respect, she wanted to be worthy of his friendship; and, just when the wish was sincerest, she came near losing everything. It all grew out of a cocked hat; for one evening the Professor came in to give Jo her lesson, with a paper soldier-cap on his head, which Tina had put there, and he had forgotten to take off.

"It's evident he doesn't look in his glass before coming down," thought Jo, with a smile, as he said "Goot efening," and sat soberly down, quite unconscious of the ludicrous contrast between his subject and his head-gear, for he was going to read her the "Death of Wallenstein."

[ryuuseini]

I really need to get this off my chest I'm just... I keep being told "learn to love yourself!! You cant expect people to love you if you dont love yourself first!" And "what do you mean everyone leaves you like youre purposely ignoring all the stable relationships you've had just to play the victim" by my family and im fucking sick of it.

To the first point - there are times where people are so deep in their self loathing and hatred, been told again and again they are unworthy of love, that they need someone to lend a hand in teaching how to self love. Because not everyone can do so when the world around them is constantly saying otherwise.

And to their second point - fuck off. Yeah, maybe its not good that I'm grouping people who do care in the same category as the people who don't... but have you considered that like, shit like this is triggering? Having a friend who promised to be there for you legitimately ruining your life; having a friend who said she was your friend and wanted to hang out with you, but each time you made plans she canceled last minute because it was her sister's birthday that day or some shit (only to see she hangs out with everyone else just fine); a person who said that they'll be friends with you and when you're floored by the fact that they waited for you instead of heading straight to class after gym, said "of course, I said I was your friend and I meant it," only for them to randomly ghost you like barely a month after this interaction and just decide to act like you exist simply when they want to, which is never, and you're just wondering what the hell you did to cause that; to the nicest girl in your class telling you, straight up, "of course you don't deserve friends! You just transferred here senior year, we already have cliques and friends we trust, how do you expect to break that?"; to the person who told you that he'll show you you're worthy of being loved, only to proceed to blame you for all of his unexplainable anger; to the friends who you thought had your best interest but talked about you behind your back about how much they hated you, to the point they willingly harassed you because you decided to leave; to the friends that said they'll try to be your friend but got mad when you pointed out that they rejected every single attempt for you to get closer but kept saying "you can join this one server we have" despite me explicitly stating that I Did Not Feel Safe There because someone who had harassed and stalked me was still in that server and there were zero protections offered for me to even feel safe in such an environment, only for them to decide a person who was suffering from such pain deserved no friends and got all of our shared friends to leave me, despite this being a private personal issue between me and them that I handled privately; to being blamed for a grown man's potential heart attack and that being JUSTIFIED by others while you're still a minor; to just... so many other bullshits I genuinely cannot describe, each happening within the relatively short time span of 5 years. Don't you think??? Don't you just think for a second??? That my brain is conditioned to think this way??? And being told "stop trying to play the fucking victim and realize the friends you DO have" is just ignoring the fact that I literally cannot because the pain is far stronger in my mind than the opposite? But you do nothing but help, so whatever.

And then I remember my first high-school. How I was gaslit, not only by my bully... But by the adults who were supposed to help me as well. I didn't feel safe attending any clubs, and the one club I did attend because he wasn't there... most of the people made fun of me anyway, there was no point. He was in every club with me, and instead of working out a thing so I - the kid who frequently felt isolated - could have a chance to socialize, I simply was expected to just not participate. I was suicide baited the day before a huge school trip by a friend of my bully under my bully's name, and when I went to tell the teacher hey, this happened, can you make sure I'm not paired up with this student who was also going to the trip, my bully stuck around to hear that, only to corner me at my locker to lie to me that he did care I got suicide baited (despite the fact I had texts stating that he only cared if the girl who had sent the texts under his name was going to get in trouble, and not the fact that I had been told my life was essentially meaningless) and had a girl who wasn't involved in the situation, who I thought was my friend, back him up and agree with all his points until I cried that I wanted to die and he should just kill me. The trip got canceled for me, but he was still allowed to go on it. We shared classes together and they were working to take me out of my classes to make my health better. One of these classes was my favorite class - the class where the teacher treated me like an actual fucking human being, the class I felt the safest in, the class I would hide in even when the teacher was teaching a different class because I felt fucking safe, the class that I wasn't put in initially for some reason but fought to be in - and they simply chose to take me out of the class instead of punishing him. How the head guidance counselor, to my face, told me "how can you say your bully isn't a friend of yours? He took the time to skip a class because he was concerned about you, how is that NOT something a friend would do?" And how, when I simply couldn't take the abuse anymore, they kicked me out of the school, forcing me to go elsewhere, where I did. And I didn't make any lasting friends and people ignored me 90% of the time, and at that 10% they cared I felt like... I had to pretend that they didn't fucking ghost me 9/10 times... Only for that school to fucking shut down at the end of my junior year, forcing me to go to another high-school my senior year, where I really had no one... Because that girl was right. Everyone already had their friend groups... I couldn't be expected to break that.

I'm just... I'm just not okay.

[alister312]

gregstophe for the shipping meme!

hi!! i. went a bit overboard for this.

buckle up for long ass explanations

First: the levels!

I think Gregory is normal levels of horny. Like, he can certainly get into it and he hints and flirts from time to time, but he’s not insane about it. Christophe, on the other hand, seems like he hates flirting and sex talk most of the time but the moment he stops repressing himself (hurray religion trauma)... he is SO horny it’s insane. That man fucks and he makes sure Gregory is VERY aware of that.

The two of them aren’t really awkward at all. So much of what makes them good is how incredibly comfortable they are with one another. Christophe is a bit more awkward because he can get too in his own head, holding himself back, but Gregory is one of, if not the only person he can relax around.

Lastly, jealousy. I think Christophe can get sort of jealous but he’s watched Gregory get hit on and date people from the sidelines for so long that he’s grown a bit numb to it. He will still snap at people who try to get too close. Gregory, on the other hand, is very unused to Christophe interacting much with anyone else. So if Christophe ever acts a little flirty (or someone else acts like that to Christophe and he doesn’t shut them down), it throws Gregory for a loop and he gets huffy about it.

Spooning: I really like the headcanon of Christophe not much liking being touched (whether mercenary work physical PTSD or upbringing trauma making him believe he doesn’t deserve loving touch). So he will not allow himself to be little spooned, but he does love doing the touching. Christophe growing up with a giraffe plushie is such a good soft headcanon I also love, and now he has Gregory. Gregory is his new giraffe plushie. Plus, he can make sure that Gregory is close and he can keep him safe. Gregory doesn’t care one way or the other in general but he does love that Christophe loves nuzzling him. He likes to be pampered.

Clothes: Gregory would never ever lend out his clothes to Christophe. That is a guaranteed way to have his clothes stretched and sullied, and that sounds like a nightmare to him. Christophe can’t be trusted with nice clothes. However, Christophe doesn’t often buy new clothes so everything he has is very soft and well worn-in. They don’t fit Gregory but he still wears them from time to time. Christophe doesn’t lend the clothes to Gregory, he just will notice Gregory is wearing a shirt of his to sleep and not stop him.

Pet Names: I’ve spoken before on my thoughts of them and pet names, but to sum it up, Gregory usually uses nothing but pet names with Christophe (love, darling, dear, Mole). They’re not affectionate though-- it’s his way of keeping his distance. Using Christophe’s real name (outside of official business introductions) is such a meaningful thing for him, which is why in Just Business, Gregory only ever calls Christophe “Mole” to his face (until he falls in love with him, then he switches). I think Christophe only has one pet name for Gregory (mon cher/chéri) and he uses it pretty often! Only when they’re alone though.

Introvert/Extrovert: Gregory loves people-- talking to them, learning from them, teaching them, anything really. Christophe’s people-tolerance usually ranges from 2 to 0. It’s fine, as long as Christophe comes across as quiet and reserved instead of extremely annoyed with everything and everyone whenever Gregory drags him somewhere. He does not often drag him places though, he gets that his partner doesn’t have the same high class social butterfly upbringing he did.

Affection/Confession: Combining these two. They are BOTH such the type to have “Acts of Service” as their number one love language. It makes for a lot of miscommunication because what is an act of service to one might not always be perceived as such by the other. This is why they both take forever to confess. Neither is very great at saying things outright and out loud. They keep trying to do things and hope the other just simply gets it someday. If anyone cracks first in actually speaking their mind, though, it’s Gregory. Christophe could quietly pine for lifetimes. Gregory can’t last that long.

Bugs: They both are more of an act first kind of vibe when it comes to bugs. Gregory might hesitate, especially if he’s wearing nice shoes or, God forbid, barefoot when he sees the bug. Christophe just kills the damn thing with whatever’s handiest. No need to over-complicate a situation.

Driving: Gregory is a very good and precise driver. He’s mostly only ever had nice cars, so he learned to be very cautious. He doesn’t drive below the speed limit or anything like that, but he’s very aware of the road and his surroundings. Very good at keeping alert and having a level head, minimal road rage. I imagine he’s the main driver for their cross-country mercenary jobs. Christophe takes SO many risks. He will drive into oncoming traffic if he deems the person in front of him too slow. The car tips when he turns because he does it so suddenly and fast. Yellow light means “speed up” to him. This means he could be a good get away driver but Gregory has a heart attack every time he rides with Christophe.

Cooking: I think Gregory really likes the idea of cooking and he does love good food, but he’s a rich kid and British. He cannot be trusted in a kitchen except with basic stuff. Christophe, on the other hand, taught himself all sorts of things so he could be independent from his mother as soon as possible. He’s a wonderful chef, though he often takes a very long time to make anything. They tend to eat out a lot because of this.

PDA: Honestly I think neither is very into the idea of PDA, however they both LOVE to tease the other using it. Gregory cooing at Christophe to get a rise out of him and show his aggression off, Christophe slapping Gregory’s ass during a mission and embarrass him in front of a hostage... they operate on “Would it be funny right now if I did something to him” and decide from there on whether or not they want to do PDA.

Protective: Going with the idea of them being mercenaries, most of their waking hours are spent actively protecting each other or making sure the other is alright. I think Gregory trusts that Christophe can handle himself very well and so is more likely to stand back (but he always has a med kit at the ready). Christophe has no idea what he’d do with himself if he lost Gregory, though, and so would do anything to keep him safe. Their both suffer from being goddamn martyrs about everything, especially each other.

Relationships: Gregory had a lot of small flings throughout his life. Up until Christophe, he didn’t put much weight into dating. Sure, he genuinely liked every one of his partners, but he was the type to date for fun, not for forever. People would ask him out and if Gregory enjoyed their company, he would say yes and see where things led. If it was only a month, oh well. If it was longer, fantastic. He just liked having an excuse to dote and go to events that required couples. Christophe never had actual dating experience, but he had various hookups and some FWBs (maybe 1 or 2) throughout his life. Didn’t really like letting anyone get much closer. Also I think he starting pining for Gregory rather early in life and so never wanted to put anyone much before him.

And since I’ve already got you readying this far, I’d just like to briefly say that I did a ship meme at another point for them and had a slightly different birthday for Christophe. However, I’ve changed it, because I know he’s an Earth sign, which my mind defaulted to Taurus. After giving it more thought, I’ve decided that actually he’s more of a Capricorn. I did a full astro birthchart for both him and Gregory over on cafeastrology. If you’d like to read them, what I entered for Gregory was the birthday of August 8, 1998 at 1am in London, England. For Christophe, it’s a birthday of December 31, 1999 at 11am in Cannes, Frances. This makes Gregory a Leo sun, Gemini rising, and Aquarius moon. Christophe is a Capricorn sun, Pisces rising, and Scorpio moon. It’s not exactly exactly what I want it to be for both of them but most of it is pretty damn close. Also I knew I wanted Gregory to be older so I chose a birthday for Christophe in 1999 since that’s when the movie came out. As for birth locations, those are my headcanon hometowns for them.

[pillow-anime-talk]

dating them.

synopsis: Some sweet, funny and also crazy moments in your relationship.

# tags: headcanons; current relationships; romance; mild comedy; fluff; PDA; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. reki kyan, langa hasegawa, miya chinen, kaoru sakurayashiki & kojirou nanjou {sk8}

author’s note: so... i’m just in love with this anime...

— REKI

↘ He’s such a precious boy who cheers you up in the blink of an eye; I think he has an extra sense, so he knows when you feel worse than usual or when you are in even the slightest pain (for example, you bumped your elbow or you haven’t eaten breakfast before ‘cause you missed your alarm clock and therefore you have a stomachache).

↘ Reki is a supportive lover; whether you are passionate about singing, learning languages, reading manga, sewing mascots or painting, a seventeen-year-old will always be right next to you to praise what you do or the way you look. He will notice every, even stupid detail about you and mention it immediately when you’re going to hang out. He’s definitely your fan and doesn’t hide it. Additionally, if you introduce him to what you love, he will also get interested in it in a way and then he will come to you to show off what he has done like a sketch of the two of you or an opinion about the anime you recommended him three days ago.

↘ The boy is really devoted to you and loves physical contact; grabbing a hand, kissing on the cheek or forehead, cute texts in the morning it’s something totally normal for the two of you. I also think that Reki could melt if you run your fingers through his soft hair or make small braids for him, decorating his head with a few colored hairpins or hairbands.

↘ If you know how to skateboarding, he will be delighted and your dates will mostly be about riding together or learning new tricks. Plus, it’s another thing Reki loves about you and wow. He’s even bigger fanboy than before!

↘ However, if you have never ridden or even tried to do it, it doesn’t matter. A teen will be happy to be able to offer you some private lessons if you wish. Again, red-haired adores physical contact, so holding your hands/waist while you stand on his beloved skateboard will be a dream come true for him.

↘ He always has ticket for you, so you make a new banner for each race to support him. Hit me, but I’m 120% sure that after race (whether he won or lost it) he takes your pretty banners and hides them in this special box that has its place on his bedroom closet.

↘ Overall, Reki is a boy who fits to the definition of high school, first love.

— LANGA

↘ Your relationship is a bit more peaceful, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a bit of humor or abstraction.

↘ Langa loves your company so, so, so badly; Reki is quite hot-tempered and is literally everywhere, so when the two of you hang out together after school or at the weekend, blue-haired feels that he can breathe and relax every muscle in his body. You’re his comfort person, and your room is a safe place without fear and noise.

↘ He also enjoys physical contact, but much more prefers to show affection in private, for example in your home or in his own bedroom.

↘ His favorite type of PDA is cuddling; he prefers to be a big spoon and hug you from behind, but he has no problem hugging against your chest or warm stomach, especially when he feels down because of school or racing.

↘ I have a strange feeling that Langa is the type of romantic who would make an amazing Spotify playlist for the two of you so you could listen to the songs, cuddling each other in the bed.

↘ If you can skateboard that’s great! For sure you, Langa and Reki will be a good trio that will meet often in the skate park or in ‘S’. I’m also pretty sure he’ll cheer for you, but at the same time he’ll be very cute with it and definitely more calm than his bestie. For example, if you do a trick... you’ll get a quick kiss on the nose or Langa will buy you your favorite drink. He definitely likes to pamper you.

↘ If you don’t know how to skateboard but you really want to start skateboarding to share your lover’s passion... Well, he will definitely give you a short (long) monologue about how dangerous it is, and you need to be careful – because he knows best of all how a fall on butt or face hurts.

↘ He always keeps a tiny set of colored plasters in his jacket or pants pocket to take care of you in the case of an unexpected accident, as Reki used to care for him.

↘ He’s a good teacher, but he will definitely need to calm his emotions, because sometimes instead of showing you how to slide down the railing, he will suggest something more down-to-earth, like going to the cinema to watch the movie you mentioned three days ago.

— MIYA

↘ Ahh, my precious smol baby.

↘ You are Miya’s first partner, so he still thinks that he’s not good enough for you, although you always reassure him with a light peck on the nose that he’s the best thing that has happened to you and that you’re very glad that you can be with him in every good and bad moment.

↘ The teenager is terribly shy about any physical contact outside, so if you aren’t at home, don’t expect a ton of hugs or kisses from him. He much prefers when you two are alone – then he doesn’t feel overwhelmed by the gazes of other people, especially other skaters who like to make fun of him. 

↘ I swear I’ll bite and beat them all...

↘ Miya is a delicate soul and he really likes to feel that someone look after him, so in a relationship he definitely prefers when you cares for him. For example; just touch his soft hair, ask about his well-being or when he will have a race and a huge smile will appear on his face.

↘ I think if he feels that you are the only one for him... Maybe he will lend you his favorite hoodie with cat ears and tail? He’ll be overjoyed to see that you feel good in it. You look extremely cute, but he’ll never admit it. 

↘ It smells like him, like wet earth and a hint of sweet perfume, and although it’s a strange combination, it feels really beautiful, downright safe and homey.

↘ For the next holiday (your birthday, your anniversary, Valentine’s Day or Christmas), he will give you a sweatshirt that matches to his own. It will be in your favorite color and will also have an animal accessory, not necessarily catish, because if you prefer dogs, rabbits or cows... You know, there are many options.

↘ If you know how to skateboard, he will be really calm and will feel that finally someone will want to spend time with him, training and riding together; not like in childhood when everyone turned away from him. He will definitely be moved when you grab his smooth hand and offer a long ride in the park. He definitely loves praise, so give him praise every now and then when he does a nice trick. He will also compliment you more than once and even give you a kiss on the cheek (of course if nobody is watching!). He’s not good at words, but he tries!

↘ If you don’t know how to skateboard... He may be a bit skeptical, but naturally he’ll agree to a few lessons in front of your or his house. Of course you originally just wanted to be close to him and hold his hand more often than usual, but it turned out to be pretty fun! Now, training is your typical dates.

↘ Miya is a sweet boy and although he may not look like that, he’s really protective, often jealous and always puts you at first place.

— KAORU

↘ This beautiful man, this angel-looking ideal, this ahhhh... Being in a relationship with him is pure pleasure and daily healing for the soul.

↘ He’s a calm, understanding and loving partner. I think he’s a bit old fashioned but that only adds much more charm to his person.

↘ He often calls you his ‘dearest’, ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’, isn’t that cute?

↘ You two don’t go out on dates too often, but I think Kaoru loves to spend time at home, having tea or on the couch while one of you is reading a book and the other is listening to music or just sleeping. He definitely doesn’t look like that, but he loves PDA/cuddling and is the best at it!

↘ He also likes it when you suggest learning calligraphy together. He never forced you to do this, but when he first heard that you would like to meet one of his passions, he was really happy and immediately showed you how to write with ink on the special paper he had in his flat. Obviously, more than once you ask him to write a simple letter or word, because you just love his handwriting and how focused he seems. He’s really hot then, I swear to god!

↘ You love his long hair and are always eager to give him a new, nice hairstyle; normal braid or fishtail braid. Maybe a bun or a ponytail with a few hairpins? He loves everything you do on him. In addition, the gentle head massage you give him each time is the most soothing thing in the world for him.

↘ If you know how to skating... He’s really surprised, but that doesn’t mean he’s unhappy or angry. He wants to see what you can do right away and you will surely feel a sweet kiss on your forehead more than once when the trick will be good or even better than you both thought. He’s a supportive boy, but doesn’t show it as vehemently as Reki, for example; he prefers to smile at you or clap softly.

↘ If you don’t know how to skate yet, but you asked him to teach you how to even stand on it... I imagine Kaoru going pale and trying to distract you from this idea because, as an experienced skater, he’s afraid that you will hurt yourself like any beginner. But your big eyes and ruddy cheeks are his weaknesses, so he’ll trust both you and Carla and help you keep your balance on his beloved, black-violet board. Reward him later with quick kisses or give him his favorites, okay?

↘ To sum up, Kaoru is a good and honest lover. He definitely loves your company and won’t mind spending his free time seriously and frivolously with you.

— KOJIROU

↘ This guy is the definition of the sentence ‘Through the stomach to the heart’. Any objections? No. So let’s gooooo!

↘ Kojirou is a PERFECT second half. Both in character and appearance. If he fall in love with someone seriously, and it will be you, then know that he’ll care for you like about a member of the royal family; breakfasts in bed, an Italian supper, the perfect choice of wine for a chicken or steak are things that have become a sweet daily thing for you at some point.

↘ He loves to show you affection and absolutely has no problem doing it in public, even when he’s working or when you two are in a tight crowd on the train or in the ‘S’ before his race. He will kiss you hard on the lips, grab your skin on your butt or hug your waist. It’s just that everyone needs to know that you belong to him. He’s just as clingy as Reki, and sometimes even worse and bolder.

↘ Of course he has cute side; he likes to lie on the bed or the sofa with you on his chest. He loves being between your thighs and sleep there. He definitely has a weak point in that when you you run your finger on his tattoo or cook dinner with him, throwing ingredients at him and laughing out loud.

↘ Another romantic who uses thousands of pet names (like babey, cutie, doll, pumpkin, kitten). Plus, he loves to dance with you in the kitchen and steal a few kisses here and there. Also, if you aren’t looking, he likes to surprise you with a big, bear hug.

↘ I think he’s a bit impatient, so he doesn’t like to sit at home and prefers dates in crazy places (such as an amusement park, swimming pool, karaoke bar) – it’s his favorite way of spending your time together. As a gentleman, he always pays for you, unless you go faster and bring your ATM card to the card reader as first. But don’t be surprised when Kojirou will just buy you cotton candy or popcorn shortly afterwards.

↘ If you know how to skateboard, he’s as excited as a kid and will definitely offer you a date at the skate park. Naturally, he wants to show off to others what a super cool partner he has, but he also wants others to know that you’re here together to kick everyone’s asses with your abilities. You’re definitely a powerful couple and you have the matching necklaces!

↘ But if you don’t know how to skating then... well, well, well. Just be prepared that one day (without even asking for it) you’ll stand on his beloved board and he will grab your hips, smiling silly. He enjoy skin ship so this guy feels utopian when he can be near you. He definitely won’t spare you compliments, long pecks, and smack your butt when you do something great, so you have to get used to it... and it’s going to be a long training session, so good luck, my friend.

↘ He’s a funny guy, but he’ll never cross your limits, so don’t worry about that. However, he will always find a topic for conversation or a joke to relax the atmosphere or cheer you up. You will never be bored with him.

[yan-twst]

yan-twst’s yandere twst base guidelines

long story short, i’m tired of not writing yan characters consistently so this is more so a guide for MYSELF to write them consistently. it’s not going to be 100% coherent or like, poetic, because this is moreso a reminder for myself to know how i’m characterizing these boys, but i thought i might as well post it so everyone has an idea how i work with yan characters

warnings: death mentions, general yandere content, mentions of verbal and physical abuse, non consensual drug use, you know the drill

riddle rosehearts is desperate for control and affection. his mommy issues make him seek out the sort of coddling and care he never got from his mother, and at the same time makes him want to establish he’s the one in charge to feel safe. he is easily jealous, doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty if it’s for his darling. he can be manipulated by them in his weaker moments, but he’ll usually be able to tell when they’re trying to use him and retaliate. he wouldn’t be opposed to letting those he trusts oversee his darling. he’ll keep his darling in his dorm; they may be allowed to roam around with trey or maybe cater, but riddle fully expects them to only go out when he’s there.

ace trappola is sadistic and a bit immature. he likes to make his darling’s life hell, tear them down and make them cry until he’s the one who comforts them (not very well). he’s the standard “little kid teasing his crush in the playground”, except way more violent. ace trusts nobody with his darling- he’ll use threats and violence to get them to stay away. he mocks his darling for being weak. ace can’t really keep his darling locked up due to his dorm situation, but his verbal abuse and manipulation are enough to keep them silent about how he treats them

deuce spade is conflicted but selfish. his past as a delinquent makes violence come easily to him, and he might hurt his darling in an outburst of anger. likewise, he’ll get rid of people he thinks are “getting too close” to his darling with threats of physical violence, and he’ll easily make good on those threats if prompted. the idea of locking them up isn’t something that comes up naturally (besides, he can’t really do that), but he’s always waiting for his darling in the door of their dorm in the mornings and drops them off, making sure they aren’t wandering off. he has bouts of extreme sweetness, talking about how they “changed him”, bringing them flowers, making them meet his mom- a big contrast to his violent tantrums, but his sweetness is enough to make his darling think he might stop hurting them (and also fear of what he could do if they broke up with him)

trey clover is a manipulator. he doesn’t really need fancy tricks or strength to make his darling stick by his side. the fact everyone sees him as a friendly and helpful man means nobody questions his actions too much. he pushes his darling to act the way he wants them to, usually gaslighting them or guilt tripping them into doing as he wishes. trey will not lock up his darling, at least not in school, but he’ll make them feel like they aren’t allowed to talk to anyone or interact with anyone other than him. he’ll also freely twist his darling’s words to make people who try to get close to them stay away

cater diamond needs to be told he’s loved, be told he’s good. he craves to have a close connection to somebody, and he’s just not used to feeling so attached to someone. he’ll use lots of blackmail to keep his darling obedient. whether he kidnaps his darling or not depends on how easily he can do so: if they’re the MC, he might not do so, since he craves to take pictures and show the world who he’s dating, and if he kidnapped them and published those it’d be too obvious. however, his blackmail makes it enough that his darling doesn’t dare go against him. cater won’t use violence to get rid of “rivals”, but he’s very much willing to use rumours and blackmail to ruin them

leona kingscholar wants both a plaything and someone to treat him like a king. he will make his darling feel weaker and inferior to him, but he’ll also seek comfort in them. leona has no trouble using some physical violence to keep his darling in their place, nor does he have qualms in killing people who he sees as a threat. luckily, it takes a lot to get him to that point, since he’s quite lazy about the effort it takes to kill. he fully expects his darling to pamper him, but he often makes allusions that once he sets a life for himself, they’ll be his “queen” of sorts. ruggie absolutely knows this is going on, and leona will let him be around his darling once in a while, as long as he knows his limits. lots of jealousy towards his brother- mentioning him is a surefire way to get beat black and blue

ruggie bucchi wants someone to call his own. he’s possessive and jealous, and he’ll do all he can to make them be his. he treats them more like property than as a lover sometimes. at the same time, he’s very much a needy lover, and he’ll be whining and keening for constanta affection. physical violence isn’t usual in his darling, but he has no issue getting rid of others- he’s very, very good at getting rid of the body. he keeps his darling locked in his room out of jealousy, and he’s got no problems with using his unique magic to make them give him affection

jack howl feels bad about how he feels but ha can’t stop himself. he rationalizes that he’s “protecting” his darling from the outside world, seeing them as weak and helpless compared to him. he scales up slowly in his obsession, starting from walking them around to locking them in his room. he thinks his darling is being thankless for not appreciating his worry. jack will not use physical violence on his darling, but he might make empty threats just to make them understand he’s stronger. jack will be hesitant to kill for his darling, however if he gets mad enough and if someone seems to be trying to rescue them or contact them, he might snap

azul ashengrotto is desperate to be reassured. he often cries and guilt trips his darling, asking them to assure him he’s good enough for them. the way he treats his darling wildly varies on his mood; when he’s feeling confident he’ll use smooth talking and act in a way so gentlemanly it might be able to temporarily make them forget their situation, but when he’s in the deep end of his insecurities he’s all screams and tears. when he’s out of his mind, he might leave bruises on his darling, but it’s more of a lack of control than a desire to hurt. he lets the leech twins around- under his watch- and makes them make sure his darling doesn’t think of escaping lest they be hunted by the eels. he’ll absolutely use a contract to take away his darling’s magic, and by extension take away the magic of anyone he sees as a “threat”. likewise, he’ll sic the twins onto the “threats” 

jade leech is sadistic but calculating. he wants his darling to be dependent on him and him alone. upon kidnapping them, he makes sure to treat them nicely; bringing them warm food, physical comfort, etc. of course he also punishes quite liberally: however, he’s always careful in how he does it. he either makes it out to be entirely his darling’s fault so that he’s not “the bad guy”, or he might send in floyd to make them suffer. either way, jade is always the one to comfort them, and make them associate his presence with being well. jade absolutely keeps his darling locked up, and while he doesn’t like them being alone with someone else, he does let floyd or azul see them sometimes, maybe for dinner or something. jade has no problem killing to teach his darling a lesson, but he’s more often lowkey and clean about it

floyd leech does whatever he pleases. it doesn’t take much for him to decide to take his darling and force them into his room into the role of a toy for him to squeeze and bash around. floyd’s darling is always bruised and injured in some way- floyd sometimes treats their wounds, sometimes jade drops by to treat them, but he’s too rough for them to heal entirely. floyd rejoices in his darling’s tears and missery: he isn’t going to comfort them or try to make them love him, but rather demand they act how he wants when he wants and hurt them to get that. he’ll happily kill anyone his darling even as much as seems to think of- and he’ll also be very happy to show his darling the corpse and the gore to make them cry and sob

kalim a-asim truly doesn’t want to do his darling wrong. at first it’s his worries over his darling’s safety that makes him take action and lock them in the dorm; he prepares a room for them, lavish gifts and whatnot. kalim seems to be trying to buy his way into his darling’s heart, believing his actions can be forgiven with enough repentance (but not giving up what he’s gotten). although kalim would never harm his darling, he’ll chain them up so they can’t run, believing he’s doing the best. while kalim loathes violence and death, if he truly does believe it’s “needed”, he might pay his family’s assassins to silently get rid of threats, but he’ll be very careful to keep this a secret from his darling. talks a lot about the future and how he’ll marry his darling and how good life will be

jamil viper wants to be, for once, the most important person to someone. he wants to be seen for all he is and congratulated, worshipped. his obsession starts with being praised and given attention, and suddenly he wants more. jamil has no issue using his unique magic to keep his darling locked in his room and acting as he wants; however, he wants them to act like that out of their own accord. punishments may be verbal or physical, but in the end, he wants his darling to act like they love him without him having to hypnotize them. there’s a fair chance jamil will let kalim know about the situation, albeit word it in such a way kalim believes jamil’s darling is actually a willing lover and lend him an extra room to keep them in or something. jamil will try to avoid getting blood on his hands, but if he sees that it’s going to be better off it he kills people who may try to release his darling or expose him, he’ll gladly remove them from the scene

vil schoenheit finds peace in having someone to control and fuss over. his day to day life is very busy, always having something to do, something to study, maintain his image and his grades and his job. when it comes to his darling, vil feels relaxed when he can simply pamper them like a doll: to have some absolute control for once. he prides himself in how he “polishes” his darling. vil will use any sort of potion, from potent love potions to numbing or calming draughts to keep his darling dumb and pliant under his care. because he believes that hard work means doing everything needed, vil will easily use untraceable poisons to get rid of those he thinks are trying to tarnish his darling. he doesn’t care if the love he’s being showered with comes from a love potion, as long as he feels like he’s being entirely appreciated for who he is (and not just who the world sees him as). he’d trust rook enough to stay around and watch over his darling, but usually he’ll just keep them in his room, knowing full well the potions make them too docile to hurt themselves or make a big mess

rook hunt loves all things beautiful and thinks of his darling as a muse. he’s the very image of the stalker who watches his darling through their day, stealing trinkets and making a small “shrine”, taking creepshots, and sending anonymous letters with enough detail to make his darling scared. he builds up the “fear” (in his mind, he’s just elongating the hunt, making it a game) until he finally catches them and takes his prize home. rook has no problem letting vil know he’s keeping someone locked in: honestly, this isn’t too surprising, and as long as he doesn’t cause trouble, vil might be willing to supply love potions and such to keept he ruckus down. still, rook much prefers to “tame” his darling the natural way- with fear, punishment, and reward. he’ll often make them think they have a chance to escape only to catch them later, crushing their spirits

epel felmier wants to be told he’s strong, he’s manly, he’s his darling’s one and only. he’s grown up seeing the traditional quiet marriages of the people back in his village, and he fully believes he’ll play the role of the supporting, strong, capable man to his darling, meanwhile they’ll be his domestic and pliant spouse (regardless of his darling’s gender). he may use his innocent appearance to fool them into his trap, and then use any means possible to keep them, from mild poisons in food he brings to spells that make their body lock up. he luckily isn’t one for physical punishments, but that can change if his darling tries to insult him or imply he’s effeminate or weak. 

idia shroud is a creep. he spies on his darling with the campus security cameras, he sends small drones to spy on them sleeping, when he dares venture out to the campus he nervously pockets their belongings and builds a literal shrine to them. he might even use ortho to lure them into his room- and once they seem to trust him just a little, he strikes and keeps them locked inside. idia is so very aware his darling thinks he’s a weirdo and a creep, but he still wants their affection. idia may force his darling into cosplays of his favourite characters, using empty blackmail threats or threatening to somehow hurt or sabotage the people they care about using his borderline horrifying technological creations. he even uses ortho as leverage, telling them that if they keep acting that way and crying they’re going to worry the small child who sees them as another sibling figure

malleus draconia has never felt this way before and all he knows is he feels a need to keep and protect. his dragon’s instincts are to hoard his treasure, and his darling is the most precious thing to him. malleus keeps his darling captive as part of that hoarding instinct, although he does crave genuine love and becomes frustrated and angry when he doesn’t receive it. if he’s angered enough, malleus might have outbursts where his darling is seriously hurt- although he’ll be very guilty later. he’s very, very jealous of anyone who gets close to his darling, and he really might turn them into a pile of ashes if they irk him wrong. he has his guards and lilia making sure his darling doesn’t run away, although more often than not that’s not even possible with the sleeping curses he puts on his darling while he’s away

lilia vanrouge has been alive for long enough to know he can get away with pretty much anything, and so he really won’t hold back. he’s a sadistic lover, but more than teasing or being mean it’s sometimes him downright enjoying his darling’s pain and misery. he has enough experience to know exactly what to do to make his darling do what he wants without them even realizing they’re playing right into his tricks, and if not, he’s never afraid to come back home a little bit bloody and make his darling guess who he got rid of because they refused to behave. lilia can keep his darling about anywhere; he’s experienced enough with teleportation magic to switch back and forth from NRC to wherever he pleases, but it’s more likely he’ll keep them in his dorm room so he can “play family” with malleus, silver, and his unwilling darling. 

silver is just doing what his heart tells him, unaware his love is an obsession. being raised by fae, he isn’t 100% of how human romance and courtship works, and it doesn’t really help his parental figures are either clueless in love or twisted enough to encourage his obsession. silver doesn’t want to punish his darling or bring them harm, but he’s ruthless on those he thinks are threats or are trying to tear him and his darling apart. malleus and lilia let him keep his darling locked in diasomnia, even offering to help keep them locked in when silver falls victim to his sleep. of course, the one thing silver wants is affection and warmth- the kindness and sweetness with which he treats his darling are so contrasting to how ruthlessly he kidnapped them that it’s almost painful to see his sad face when they refuse to embrace him

sebek zigvolt is mad. he’s mad that someone is causing him to be confused and distracted, that he can’t properly protect malleus because his heart is going wild at the thought of some silly human. he takes this anger out on his darling; they think he hates them, at first. but the stares, the blush, the fact he’s stealing their personal belongings, smelling their sweaters he stole before he goes to sleep tell another story. and yet he’s mad; when he kidnaped them, he locks them up, telling them he’s punishing them for distracting him. over time, he’ll give in, once his thirst for affection and for holding his darling override his initial anger. but that won’t change much- he’ll still be controlling, very violent when angered, despite him drinking up their praise and basically begging for their affection

[kuroosweakness]

oikawa, iwaizumi, kuroo, bokuto, akaashi, tendou, and ushijima as part-time workers

how i imagine them as part-time workers :DD please like and reblog !! <3

karasuno version here !!

oikawa: starbucks barista

- i’m sorry but he just fits perfectly with starbucks lmaoo

- he’ll be a nice worker half the time but if he doesn’t like the vibe a customer gives off, he’ll purposely write their name wrong 

- he will CONSTANTLY be posting about the job on his social media. if you’re on his close friends, the things you see will be quite concerning ( in a funny way though lmaooo )

- he’ll definitely fake a british accent in the drive-through

- if his friends pulled up to starbucks, the chances of him switching the salt and sugar is kinda high ... but he often gives out free cakepops which is one of the reasons why his boss is always trying to have a talk with him 

- but mostly everyone loves barista oikawa and no one can get rid of him, not even the boss. he’s one of those people who you just can’t help but love :)) 

iwaizumi: a movie theater worker 

- all i’m imaging right now is iwaizumi in a all-black movie theater crew uniform... 

- the gays and girls don’t go to the movie theater just to see movies, they’re there to see him too- 

- the main reason why iwaizumi likes working in a movie theater is because the bond between the employees is tight and he just loves film in the first place

- iwaizumi glares at the people who don’t clean up after themselves in the theater. he doesn’t understand why throwing away a popcorn bucket is so hard. 

- he’ll always scoop the perfect amount of popcorn in the buckets and his candy recommendations are on point. however, if he sees people sneaking snacks in, he’ll ask what they’re sneaking in and if the snacks fits his taste, he’ll smile and let it slide :) 

- the movie theater is probably right next to the starbucks that oikawa works at 

kuroo: tutor or target worker

- i bet you saw “tutor” coming but TARGET WORKER ( target is a grocery store that also sells a good selection of toys and plants and furniture and clothes. the amount of teachers i’ve seen shop at target is uncountable ) 

tutor: 

- kuroo would definitely be the chill tutor who explains things so lightly and easily it’ll make you wonder how you didn’t understand in the first place 

- his handwriting is ... doctor’s handwriting... reading off of his paper is not easy and students have to ask him to explain what he’s writing all the time 

- students are intimidated by him at first but later he just turns into the “smart one” in the friend group :)

target worker: 

- okay but kuroo in that classic red shirt ...

- again, he’ll be the chill one who lowkey dances when shelving items. if a customer doesn’t know where something is, they automatically go to him because he will know EXACTLY what they’re talking about 

- the toilet paper with the cartoon bears on the packaging? it’s on the right side in aisle 4 on the third shelf level

- the grandmas who shops at target loves him. idk why they just do :D

bokuto: uber driver/ uber eats 

- yes. bokuto would definitely be the FUN UBER DRIVER. he’ll offer mints, water, snacks before he even asks for the destination 

- people will definitely find candy wrappers over the back seat and empty water bottles ... and spare chargers... (his car probably smells like a mix of chicken and the smell of brand new clothing)

- the songs he plays? YES, TURN IT UP. when bokuto listens to music while driving, he gets IMMERSED into the songs. he sings his heart out, he dances, he does everything except put both of his hands on the steering wheel ....

- but no worries !! bokuto’s driving is surprisingly stable and his memory of the roads is outstanding 

- he’ll lend a ear to the people who are big on conversations. bokuto is AMAZING at talking. he has conversations like strangers as if they’ve been friends since three. if you have drama you want to let out on your uber driver, bokuto’s your guy 

- as a uber eats driver, he’ll probably steal a fry... and sniff the food sometimes

- however, he’ll always grab extra sauce and napkins and sometimes even buys a random food item he likes and gives it to the customer for free lmao 

- “oh yeah i know you didn’t order cheese bagels but i thought you’d like them so i got them” 

akaashi:  medical assistant/ EMT worker

- akaashi is quiet and doesn’t speak his mind often but his mind is AMAZING and he has a passion for helping others 

- the people of the community loves akaashi ( as they should ) 

- he’s helped people with broken arms, kids who fell off of slides, etc etc. he also specializes in protecting the children he sees. the kids that akaashi aids LOVES him and feels so comfortable with him which is why akaashi always gets the tea that the kids tells him :)

- “akaashi-san, my mom almost fed me blueberries yesterday so i put legos on her bed :D. also can i have the dino band-aids this time?”

- when akaashi hears things like this, it makes his day :) he’ll smile and nod along. “what happened next?”  

tendou: life-guard

- not only is he a fun life-guard, but he’s also a hot one :D <33

- the kids at the pool LOVES HIM. tendou always throws the pool rings into the pool for the kids to dive for. he brings floaty toys too!! when the kids don’t know how to blow the floaties, he’ll teach them

- if it’s especially hot one day, ice cream is on him. 

- even with his fun side, tendou takes life-guarding really seriously and never looks away from the pool when he’s on duty

- there’s never a dull, boring moment with tendou at the pool :))

ushijima: florist

- yes. ushijima as a florist? yes. 

- flowers have a special place in ushijima’s heart. they’re his safe place. he has a really good eye when it comes to matching flowers to decor. 

- he makes flower wristbands, corsages, flower headbands, bouquets, all that. he has his favorite flowers and is always trying to recommend customers to buy his personal favorites :) 

- there’s small scars and cuts over his hands due to the thorns and pricks that some flowers have. his coworkers keep telling him to put gloves on but he insists on treating all the flowers gently and equal

[ray-jaykub]

hi I hope you are well uwu 💕 I wanted to ask you if you could do the reaction of the turtles with his S / O he says something like "you have to meet my baby" or "I have a baby" and BUM shows him an adorable dog (my baby is a huge german shepherd xd)

I want a sphinx cat and a pitbull so bad! So fucking bad!!! ( im running out of gifs) leo and raph have dogs but i gave don and mikey something different

Leonardo:

•As soon as he hears baby lee goes straight into dad mode

•He hasn't even gone through the process of first step father-hood and already he's down

•You can't blame him! Leo desperately wants children, even if it means being a step-dad, he will cherish and raise them like his own

•I guess all he can say is that he really appreciates his dad and wants to follow in his steps

•You planned bringing them down to the lair and fearless is suddenly fearful because what soon to be father wouldn't be?

•Cries of relief when he sees it's a giant german sheperd

•like he realized in the last three seconds before you got there he was not ready to father a child but he can handle a dog

•Teaches your boy all the tricks, like sitting and fetching and swimming and how to keep you safe! All the works, while still spoiling him like a baby

•Quite literally can't go a day without giving the baby something for his troubles

Raphael:

•Sared mode activated

•Most likey >heard< you talking about it and instead of confronting you, the big sap decides to hide away and have a few anxiety attacks

•If you don't go looking for Raph he will be out of sight for a long time, he will not come out until you come to his hiding space (the garage)

•He fucking freaks when he sees the blue-nosed pitbull skid across the smooth pavement to lap at his face, your turtle is in heaven

•Talks in a baby voice to the cutey even if Mikey teases him because he just can't help it they're so precious!

•let's the dog eat scraps, play in the tunnels, sit in his recliner with him, and if you hadn't had stopped, the baby wpuld've tooken a bath with you both too

•It's later that he talks about having a family with you. The idea of havin a few of his own to share with you and blue would be sweet(also, imagine this guy with kids and a dog, heart clenching)

Donatello:

•You quite literally can't get anything past Donatello

•He gathers evidence from his surroundings and the people he talks to so when you mention a baby he knows it can't really >be< an actual baby

•For starters, you spend far more time with work and him to have the time to care for an actual infant. You don't carry items in your bag or on your person resceptible to owning a baby, and quite frankly, don is pretty sure you would've said something by now

•But the huge ass bird was still a surprise

•A majestic falcoln that stays up on the roof in an industrial cage was something he'd never see you owning and he geeks out when you lend him a handmade glove to hold her

•He's going on and on about facts on your bird when she yanks his glasses off his face and swoops to settle on the balcony holding leo and dad's bonsai trees

•Constantly stealing stuff from him so please reassure Don that she does it because she likes him and no she isn't planning something against him

•"But falcolns are sma-" "Not smart enough to build a doomsday device!"

Michelangelo:

•The only one smart enough to ask more questions about your "baby" 

•Yet you give all these vauge ass answers on some naked thing that's constantly whining is when he panics

•Michelangelo is the youngest and, although very skilled and with normal common sense, quite childish in nature. In other words he's good for toddlers and kids but left empty handed with teens and babies

•Cries when he sees a bundled up thing in your arms and of course you freak out because why is he crying? It's just a cat

•Its just a cat? Cats can be naked??? Expect him to make fun of the cat. You treat her like a baby while he always treats her like a gremlin

•"She looks like a rotisserai(?) Chicken!" "Mike! Leave her alone! How would you feel if I called you names?"

•You are definitley the bad cop in this relationship because Michael will let her get away with everything if you weren't

•Teaches her to catch mice too, much to splinter's dismay

[recurring-polynya]

Oop my bad I mean Ginrei haha. I was wondering what headcanons you had about him. The kuchiki clan overall is so mysterious

Ohhhhh, that makes more sense!

Sort of the same thing goes for Ginrei though-- just because I think he’s awful does not mean that I do not love him (I do.)

Look, the two wolves that live inside me are (1) I always end up loving rich characters and (2) I hate the rich. Although the contents of my blog may indicate otherwise, I am not actually a Byakuya simp. I am a Rukia and Renji simp, for sure. Byakuya loves them and is important to them, and by extension, I have grown affectionate for him, but the man is ridiculous and just barely escapes being awful, for reasons I will describe in a moment.

Soul Society is problematic. Like, this is not really a debatable topic, it is very much presented this way, and I think one of the most legitimate disappointments people have with the series is that we never see any major shift in this, even though a number of its institutions are literally destroyed, they just end up being being built up again. The main problem with Soul Society is that it is run by the rich and powerful, and the poor are neglected and left to live short, miserable afterlives. The nature of reincarnation and the fact that the strong cannot live among the weak without sapping their spiritual pressure really entrench this, along with the dominant narrative that it’s good for the outer districts to churn weak souls so that power can (rightfully) collect at the center.

Perhaps this is more of a logical extension than a headcanon, but everyone in Soul Society who controls any amount of power is likely to be awful: at worst, scheming and corrupt like that guy from CFYOW, and at best, crafty and artful a la Yoruichi. Take the Head Captain, for example, who is, on one hand, definitely presented to the audience as A Good Guy, and yet every single filler arc is about some shadowy thing he did 300 years ago coming back to bite him. Does he ever once show contrition about this? He does not.

Look, here is a headcanon I have hinted at, but I don’t usually say out loud: You know how Unohana was Soul Society’s worst criminal, and now she runs the medical station and teaches ikebana and smiles all the time? I also think that Kyouraku and Ukitake have done some nasty stuff in the past, and the fact that they now act like kind and genial goofuses is because they can. You get little hints of this all the time-- Kyouraku’s actions as Head Captain, Ukitake monitoring Ichigo through the substitute badge, etc. These dudes have done some shit, you will not convince me otherwise. (This does not affect my love for them, it may even enhance it)

I know this is very roundabout, but what I’m getting at is that to me, it’s a safe presumption that a Great Family Head is going to be slimy unless proven otherwise. Now, I don’t think Ginrei is a guy who gets up in the morning and says “how can I be evil?” I do however think he subscribes to the sort of circular thinking of “I am noble and therefore better than everyone else, it is right and good for me to make decisions that benefit myself and my family. Because we’re better than everyone else, it’s important that we remain in power as nobles.” On one hand, I think that Ginrei definitely does have ideals, like that he should lend his strength to the defense of Soul Society, that nobles should adhere to a certain standard of behavior, etc. On the other hand, when push comes to shove, he will absolutely prioritize covering his own ass (or his family’s). We see this directly in the Zanpakutou Spirits Arc, where he lectures Kouga on being a bad Kuchiki, and then immediately goes to pull some strings to get him off.

I think Ginrei and Byakuya are very, very alike in personality, which is the primary reason they don’t get along. The one big difference is, though, is that Byakuya does not talk out of both sides of his mouth the way Ginrei does. I think most nobles talk big talk about principles and standards in a way that is literally impossible to achieve, and yet Byakuya is constantly trying to hold himself to this, in a way that his relatives don’t really understand, and make a lot of people nervous. I also think that Ginrei is very, very pragmatic and makes decisions based on what needs to be done, and he doesn’t have a lot of sympathy for the people who get hurt along the way. Byakuya does this, too, to some degree, but through his association with his adopted baby scumbags, he realizes how much harm this did to his family, and he doesn’t want to be like that (although he’s also not really sure how to NOT be like that).

Here are some miscellaneous Ginrei headcanons:

- He had a good partnership with Byakuya’s grandmother, and they had affection for each other, but it wasn’t a love match.

- Good buds with Yamamoto, super problematic together

- Hair is incredibly silky, on par with B’s

- Was always unfailingly polite (bordering on patronizing) to Unohana and her bestie-at-the-time Iba Chikane. This however, was cover for a burning rivalry because Ginrei did not enjoy two women being better at things than him and Retsu and Chikane did not enjoy the patriarchy.

- Always had sky-high expectations for Byakuya, because he secretly thought Byakuya was great and wanted to see him be his best self. As a kid, Byakuya admired his grandfather, but as he grew up, and especially after the death of his father, Byakuya felt like his grandfather was just unpleasable for the sake of being an asshole.

- Ginrei had always been somewhat gentle with Soujun, because of his personality and illness, and partially blamed Soujun’s death on the this laxity, leading him to double-down on his expectations for Byakuya.

- Did not like Hisana because he was convinced she didn’t really love Byakuya and that Byakuya was throwing away a ton of political capitol for a woman who wasn’t even going to live very long. In other words, he legitimately thought he was looking out for B, but was a jerk about it. Finally let B marry her as an object lesson that... did not end the way he had hoped.

- Prior to the whole execution debacle, thinks Rukia is a disappointing nobody, not worthy of being a Kuchiki

- Is not dead, lives at the Kuchiki lake house in northern Rukongai.

- Has chilled waaaaaay out in retirement, loves tennis, tries to brew his own sake (it tastes like paint thinner but he keeps making B drink it)

I think this is the point where my Ginrei headcanons start to bleed into the Ginrei-comes-to-visit fanfic that I have been pretending to work on for, like a year now, so I’ll stop. Thank you for this discussion, which kinda makes me want to work on it again, even though I have a dozen other things to do.

[morgandria]

Centering and Grounding, Pt. 2 - Grounding

This is the 2nd of 2 articles - Part 1 focuses on centering, and can be found here. (If you haven’t read Part One, it’s an important step. Don’t skip it!)

Grounding

So, once you’re feeling nice and centered. It’s time to move on to grounding. Grounding is pretty much what it sounds like – you’re making sure you have something solid, energetically speaking, underneath you for support and strength. I make a point of teaching people interested in energy work of any kind how to this before we do anything else. Sure, we’re all our own little pool of energy, but we’re also a somewhat finite resource. If you drain yourself while trying to work, it’s going to take you some time to recharge, and this can leave you vulnerable to stress and illness. Also, if you’re doing some kind of work that needs an ongoing source of energy, if you link it just to yourself it’s going to continually draw on you. So grounding is not only useful, it’s pretty important for your well-being if you’re going to practice any kind of witchcraft or magic.

I always start grounding by centering (as covered in Part One). If you’re all over the place, it’s much harder to ground, so take the time to gather yourself up. And, as before, we’re looking to be in a comfortable position and some safe place you won’t be disturbed.

I call the method of grounding I’m about to talk about here the “Earth and Sky” method. You will, in effect be visualizing the process of grounding like growing a tree. The tree as a living being are just so stable and strong, but they’re flexible enough to take a lot of force without breaking. Trees also have the benefit of a foot in both realms – deep Below and high Above, It might seem complicated, but I think it’s a method easy enough for most people to learn even if you’re a bit iffy on your skills. Don’t be discouraged if it feels more difficult or takes longer to accomplish than centering – you’re learning to move metaphysical muscles in ways you’ve not done before.

To start grounding, we are looking to shift the direction of our focus from our center, down into the earth beneath us. It helps immensely to be in contact with the ground or floor, when you’re starting out. Some people like to feel the root of their spine directly on the earth, and others do better standing with both feet firmly planted. Having bare feet can also help a lot.

To reach the Earth power, you are looking to set down roots. Start in your center and imagine it like a seed. That seed needs to grow a taproot – you’re looking to push a little energy downwards towards your feet/base of your spine, out of your own energetic body and into the earth’s. This may involve some trial and error, since you’re not trying to move your entire center – you’re just trying to reshape it and reach out with part of it. You should feel, at this step, as if you are fixed firmly in place. If you feel drifty or wobbly, re-center yourself and try putting down another taproot.

Once you think you’ve gotten a good root started, let that taproot keep growing downward, getting stronger as you go deeper. Feel it sink into the dark, rich soil beneath you, going deeper, getting darker, connecting you to the body of the earth. Your root can spread out into more roots, getting wider as it gets deeper, giving you more security if you need it.

Deep beneath you the Earth energy flows like water, a cool refreshing stream of power. Push your root(s) down until it finds that deep flow of energy. By making this connection, you are tapping into a vast pool of external energy you can both draw from, and flow into. It’s a little like poking a straw into a juice box – a little bit of tension and resistance as you push down, until you feel a kind of “pop”, and you’re suddenly through to a different sensation. The Earth energy you tap into should feel different than your own, but not in a bad way. I experience this connection as a little bit of frisson, a chill up the spine, but YMMV.

Once you’ve made the connection, it’s time to start drawing the Earth energy up into your center. It’s not replacing your personal energy – rather, it’s supplementing it. Let your roots draw it up, feeling it rise up into your core and infusing you with strength and vitality. Draw up as much or as little as you need. Rest with it until you feel ready to move on.

That’s the entire Earth half of this grounding method. You’ve planted yourself down into a good stable source of energy and can use it to fuel your work. Some people leave it here, and that’s fine. You can practice doing just the Earth half until you feel you’ve gotten the knack. You can even decide you don’t need the Sky half, and that’s ok, too. But I think the second half of this grounding method makes the whole thing more balanced and supportive, and I urge you to try it a few times before making up your mind.

The Sky half of the grounding starts by reaching upwards. Push out from your center, but up this time. Let it flow straight along your spine – it may literally feel like something is straightening your back, or stiffening it. Keep pushing upwards until you have pushed the energy all the way through the crown of your head, and into the air above you. Again, like reaching the Earth energy, you may feel a distinct difference once you’ve reached the Sky energy – it can feel like holding your breath until you reach the surface, or like moving from deep shadow into light.

Now is the time to grow the branches of your tree. Let the energy spread out wider once you reach past your crown – you have rooted into the Earth and drawn its’ power up, and now you must reach into the Sky, and draw its’ power down. Like the roots beneath you, let your branches spread, leaves unfurling to absorb the light above, from the Sun, and the Moon, and the stars. You can reach as high as you need, because your roots are spread wide and deep, supporting you. Again, draw down as much or as little of that energy as you need. Let that Sky power flow down into your center, freely, and join with the Earth power. You are now balanced between them, flowing freely with the powers of Earth and Sky, and able to access the energies of both as needed. If you feel spacy or unanchored, draw up a little more Earth. If you feel like you’re missing a sense of inspiration or wonder, or feel constrained rather than free to act, draw down a little more from the Sky.

And that’s it, when all is said and done. As I said before, don’t be discouraged if centering seemed really easy, and grounding seems harder to grasp. It is going to take some effort, and you will have to practice. If it seems really tough, though, there’s a few things you can try that might help.

Bare feet/base of spine on the literal ground. You may have to actually touch the Earth outside, instead of being inside.

If foot/butt contact alone isn’t doing it, put your hands on the earth as well. When you move on to the Sky energy, raise them hands up from the ground and up to the sky - make your body into the shape of a tree.

Grab an actual tree. Holding a physical tree is a really good way to feel your way through the process. Most of them are happy to lend a little aid.

Don’t have access to a tree? Hold onto a staff, or a broomstick with its’ base firmly planted on the floor/ground.

There are some gemstones that are very useful for grounding purposes, and it may help you to hold or wear one when trying: I like black or green tourmaline, obsidian, jet, red tiger’s eye, and black onyx. Hematite, most forms of agate, jasper, and smokey quartz also work well for grounding.

So there! Centering and grounding, in two parts. I hope I haven’t made any of that too complicated or confusing, and as always you’re welcome to drop me a line if you have questions about what I’ve written here.

Thanks for reading, and good luck!

[mariesdeluluworld]

Nameless Fear (Jon Snow x Reader) Part 1

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙣𝙚: 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙝𝙮

𝙔/𝙣 𝙇𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧

"Father, what does this mean?" asked young Y/n Lannister. Her eyes were wide and full of curiosity. Lord Tywin Lannister looked over at his youngest, his calculating green eyes met her (e/c) eyes she got from her mother. Rumors were spread far and wide that Lord Lannister loved and favored his youngest out of all of his children.

"Father, what does this name mean?" Y/n asked once more, pointing her small index finger to the ink scribbled into her forearm. Tywin's eyes traveled to where his child was pointing at and his eyes widened at the name scribbled in her smooth skin. Memories of Joanna flooded his mind as he stared at the familiarity of this situation.

"Father?"

"Come here, Y/n," he commanded. Little Y/n walked across the stone floor to her father, her hair bouncing as she walked. Silence overlapped the two Lannisters, only the faint sound of crickets could be heard.

"Lend me your arm,"

Y/n did as she was told and let her father look at her arm. The pads of his fingers traced her skin, sending shivers up her spine.

"What is it?" she asked in a shy voice. Tywin met her eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "It's a soul mark." she furrowed her brows in confusion. "You don't know what a soul mark is?" questioned Tywin. Y/n nodded. "We haven't covered it yet in my lessons," she said sheepishly.

Of course! Thought Tywin. She's only 6 name-days after all.

"A soul mark is a gift that the gods give very special children, the name of your soulmate. I have one, and so does your brother Tyrion. As well as your Uncle Kevan." Y/n's little hands overlapped one another, her brows were pulled tightly together.

"But what if I don't want a soulmate father?" Tywin sighs and closes his eyes before answering his daughter. "Well, I guess if you don't want one then . . . then you'll never meet them." Y/n opened her mouth but Tywin raised a finger. "But, make no mistake Y/n, when finding your soulmate you will feel like your soul is finally complete. That empty space will be filled, and you'll do everything in your power to keep them safe."

Y/n just stared at her father, her eyes widening at his words. Her small child mind's wheels turning and thinking. "What if . . . what if my soulmate is an enemy? What if he's a . . . a highborn." Tywin's eyes danced with mirth at his child's remark. Even though she was only a child, she still thought about her family more than her own desires. A true Lady of the Rock. Unlike her sister or brothers.

"When the time comes, we'll figure it out. But until then," Tywin cupped her face with his calloused hands. "You will learn, fight, and be a Lannister. A lion. My heir." he kissed her forehead and Y/n closed her eyes, bathing in the pride she was overcome with. She was a Lannister, and Lannister's don't act like fools. They were lions. They were powerful. And she would be the lioness of Casterly Rock.

Years passed since the day Y/n discovered her soul mark, and ever since - she's covered it up. She vowed to never give her enemies a weakness. And the name on her arm was a weakness. She trained day and night, in the training yard, and in her fathers' study. Since the day she was born, she was taught how to be a Lady. The Lady of Casterly Rock, and every day she trained and did her very best. Proving to her father that she was capable of handling the Lannister Ancestral home. On her 10 and 6 name day, she received a letter from her elder brother Jamie Lannister, asking her to come to King's Landing.

"Father," said Y/n as she strutted into her fathers' study in Casterly Rock. Lord Tywin looked up at his daughter, placing his quill down. His green eyes studied her as she walked into the threshold, her head held high, her shoulder back. She walked with grace and confidence.

"Y/n," he said and gestured for her to take a seat. "Father I've received a letter from King’s Landing," she takes the rolled-up parchment out from her dress pocket and hands it to him. "It's from Jamie," Tywin takes the parchment and reads it quickly.

"He wants you to come to King's Landing," he mused. Y/n nodded her head. "Yes, he thinks it would be good for me to come to that rat's nest." Tywin laughed dryly. "Ha!"

He rolls the letter back up and places it on his desk. "Tell me Y/n," he laced his hands together. "what do you think of this?" Y/n sighs before answering. "I think it would be good for me to go. It would help me make friends and allies at court. Also, I may even help Tyrion and Tysha with their children and teach Tysha more about being a proper lady of the court." Tywin hummed. "And, this visit can help me oversee how bad of a King Robert is."

"You don't need to be there to see how bad of a King Robert is, Y/n, everyone in the seven bloody kingdoms knows. The only reason why they aren't starving is because of us, House Lannister." Tywin stood up from his desk, the chair scraping against the stone floor. He walked over to the portrait of Lady Joanna, Y/n's late mother, with his arms behind his back.

"Father?"

Tywin didn't answer, he just stared into the painted face of Joanna. After the birth of Tyrion, the Maester warned Joanna and Tywin that no more children should be born, for it might kill her. But one night, Tywin and Joanna were caught up in the passion of love that they didn't realize Tywin spent himself inside her. Because of that night, Joanna fell pregnant. For nine-months, Tywin was a wreck. He worried and tried everything in his power to help with the birth of his fourth child. But he did not have the power of the gods. Y/n was born during a blood-red dawn. Even on the cusp of death Lady Joanna held her baby girl in her arms while crying. Tywin was there with his wife and daughter, holding Joanna as she became weaker with every passing minute. For the last hour of her life, Joanna held her daughter and spoke to Tywin, telling him that she loved him, and their children.

After her death, Tywin gave his daughter a name; Y/n of House Lannister. The name came from a great Lannister warrior, Y/n "Red Lion" Lannister. Unlike all the other Lannister, Y/n "Red Lion" Lannister was not just a Lady of the Rock, she was one of the greatest female warriors of Westeros. Her deeds and bravery rivaled Visenya Targaryen. Though she did not ride a dragon, like Visenya, she did ride a Lion. The Lannister Warrior named her lion Leo. And Leo was the warrior's most trusted companion, she raised the lion since he was a cub, and she became like Leo's mother.

Y/n loved her namesake's story, and she too hoped to become like her. When she first heard the story of her namesake from her father, Y/n begged Tywin to get her a lion. It took time but on her 5th name day, she woke up to her father presenting her with an iron key. The key belonged to a cage where a small lion cub sat. Y/n squealed and thanked her father, jumping around and laughing at the sight of the lion.

Everyday Y/n would take her lion cub and train him, fed him, and walked him like a dog. She named her lion Ty, after her father. Ty grew up very fast and soon became Y/n's protector. He never did leave her side, only when he was commanded to by his mother. Ty was tame, but if anyone threatened his mother, the last thing they would see would be a lion roaring and bashing his teeth before going in for the kill.

"You will go to King's Landing Y/n," Tywin turns his head. "and you will observe Robert," Y/n furrowed her brows. "If I may ask father, why?" He smirked. "Because it's been too long for that fat excuse of King has been unsupervised."

Y/n chuckled. "You speak of him as if he's a child,"

"Which he is,"

She smirked at her father. "I have no doubt Father, but why me?"

"Because you and Kevan are the only ones I trust, at the moment." He walks over to Y/n and stops in front of her. "Your siblings have failed me - have failed our House. You, my daughter, are the savior of our House. You shall restore our family name. You will be the Heir to the Rock."

"But I thought Jamie -"

"Jamie will never give up that gold cloak. He would rather serve than become Warden of the West. And Tyrion, he's a dwarf, a drunk, and I'm not even sure if he's my son." Y/n nodded her head. She knew, of course, her fathers' doubts of Tyrion being his son.

"And I shall never give the seat of Warden to your sister's children, Tommen is too young, and Joffrey . . ." he trailed off. Joffrey was sadistic. He loved seeing people in pain, bleeding, and loved to hear their screams. He wasn't fit to be King of the Seven Kingdoms. But he was Heir. And Tommen was a spare.

"The Rock falls to you, Y/n, and I have trained you for this spot, for you to be Wardrenss since you were pushed out from your mother's womb," Tywin said. He placed his hands on Y/n's face, looking into her eyes, Joanna's eyes.

"Make me proud, Y/n. Make our House proud."

Y/n looked up at her father. She was only 16, but she was ready. Ready to prove herself. She was ready to be a Lannister.

"I will Father. I promise. I will make our family, my mother, proud."

And for the first time in a very long time, Lord Tywin Lannister smiled.

"Into the rat's nest we go," muttered Y/n as she got off her white mare. Her red cloak flowed behind her as she walked, her feet moved with purpose and didn't falter. Her shoulders were back and her head held high as she walked over to her family. Cersei, Jamie, Tyrion, and her niece and nephews.

Jamie embraced her first, hugging her tight. "Welcome, sister," he said in her ear. Y/n hugged him back before letting go and greeting her other older brother; Tyrion.

"Hello, Tyrion,"

"Ahh, hello little sister, I hope the ride to Kings Landing wasn't troubled."

Y/n smiled at her brother before leaning down to hug him and kiss him on the cheek. Tyrion and Jamie loved her more than Cersei, the brothers protected Y/n from a very young age. When Y/n was just a girl of seven, Jamie chased away a boy who tried to kiss her - even though Y/n had already slapped the boy and kicked him in his groin - while Tyrion comforted her and lectured the boy before their father could attack him with an open sword.

"Y/n, how do you fair?" questioned Queen Cersei after Y/n released Tyrion and stood up. Y/n met her sister's narrowed green eyes. The Queen was beautiful but old. With Y/n standing in front of her, any onlooker could see how much fairer the young Lannister was.

"I am fine, sweet sister." Y/n turned her gaze towards her eldest nephew Joffrey. His arms were crossed and there was a bored expression on his pouty face. His blonde curls framed his face and created a golden curtain around his Lannister features.

"Hello, Joffrey,"

"Aunt Y/n," A cruel smile appeared on Joffery's face that made Y/n shiver. "I'm so glad that you've come all this way to King's Landing,"

Y/n was about to reply when seven-year-old Tommen squealed in delight at the sight of a large caravan flying House Lannister flags. Y/n's guard's surrounded the caravan, protecting her sweet lion.

"Ahh, Ty's here." Joffery watched as his Aunt's guards stopped and started shouting orders. A man with short copper hair and silver armor with a flaming tree etched on his breast-plate was the one shouting commands to the other guards. This man had bronze color eyes and stood proud as if he was born to lead. This was Ser Addam Marbrands little brother, Eric Marbrand, commander of Y/n Lannsister's guards.

Joffery could hear scratching and something growling from inside the caravan, while Tommen watched in awe. Myrcella clutched onto her mother's arm, fearing the creature that made such noise.

Eric walked over to his Lady and bowed curtly at the royal family before addressing Y/n. "My Lady," Y/n smiled at Eric. "Thank you, Eric, for seeing to my beloved lion's safety," She gave him a small peck on his cheek before walking over to the now open caravan. A blush coated Eric's face before he composed himself and followed after his lady, a hand on the hilt of his sword. He would be damned if anything happened to Y/n, he would die for her, but until then, he shall follow her and protect her.

A large yellow paw was the first thing Tommen saw before he squealed louder, making Joffery scoff and complain about how un-princely his little brother sounded. Although Joffery was too impressed and excited to see his rumored Aunt's "baby".

"Ty!" Y/n said and the blonde lion walked out of the comfy caravan towards his mother. Ty rubbed his face on Y/n's dress while she laughed and smiled at her lion. The big lion purred as Y/n rubbed behind his ear, turning the big furious lion into a house cat.

Tommen tried to walk up to his Aunt but his mother grabbed his arm and stopped him. The seven-year-old prince glared at his mother but Cersei didn't even pay attention, she was too busy glaring at her younger sister.

"Why did you bring this beast?! This thing could kill one of my children!" she scowled. Y/n just sighed and looked up from her lion to her big sister. "Ty would never hurt a child, Cersei, he's trained. And he only attacks unless I command him to."

"Mama, I want to go pet him!" said Tommen. Y/n smiled indulgently at her youngest nephew. "Tommen," started Cersei before Tyrion interrupted her and walked over to his young sister. He waddled over to the lion and he put out his hand for Ty to sniff. "Well, I must say, sister, this is a surprise," he said. "Father let you take this . . ." he trailed off as Ty licked his hand.

"Yes Tyrion, father knows that wherever I go, Ty comes along. Besides, father likes knowing that I have a fierce lion protecting me when he cannot." Y/n giggled as Ty started licking Tyrion's face making the dwarf laugh nervously.

"Tyrion, where's Tysha?" Y/n asks, her eyes looking around the courtyard. "Ah, I see you haven't heard, Tysha is resting. She's just given birth to a girl. Thomas and Janus are with their baby sister as we speak," The young lion smiled at her brother. "Congratulations, brother dear." Tysha and Tyrion have been trying to have a baby girl for a while now and it seems like the gods have blessed them.

When Tyrion was 16 and Y/n 8, he met Tysha near Casterly Rock. She was being chased and almost raped by bandit's and Jamie chased them away while Tyrion comforted the girl with black hair and blue eyes. She was lowborn but Tyrion didn't care about that. Tyrion was born with the name "Tysha" on his wrist, and when they first touched they felt a spark. Tyrion fed her, drank with her, and talked. They fell in love and made love that night. Afterward, she sang him a song and kissed, they were so in love that Tyrion married her without their father's permission. They found a drunken Septon and got married with only pigs to witness their union. They lived in a cottage by the sunset sea where they made love, kissed, and sang. But when Septon sobered up, he told Tywin of his dwarfs' son's marriage. Tywin was enraged that day and only young 8-year-old Y/n could stop her father from doing what he intended to do. She convinced him that if he went through with his plan she would kill herself. She wouldn't stand by and live knowing that her father split up two soulmates. Tywin cried that night and hugged his last living memory of Joanna and promised to never split Tyrion and Tysha up.

The next day he and Y/n went down to Tyrion's and Tysha's cottage and took them to the Rock where Septa's and Y/n taught Tysha how to be a proper lady. That was Tywin's condition, if Tyrion wanted to live in the Rock with his wife, she would become a proper lady. Turns out that Tywin greatly enjoyed Tysha's presence and she soon became part of the Lannister Family, though she and Tyrion would never inherit the Rock. Cersei hated Tysha but then again, she hated almost everyone that wasn't her or was a threat.

"I'm glad, brother, you and Tysha deserve all the happiness in the world." Y/n said before looking at her sister. "If you don't mind sister, brothers, I'm very tired. Would you please show me to my room?" Cersei nodded. "Jamie, show our little sister where she'll be sleeping." Cersei turned and headed back inside the Red Keep with her children trailing behind her with a few Lannister guards shadowing her movements.

"Come, sister," said Jamie sweetly before leading her through the Red Keep.

[i-drink-and-i-write-fics]

Family Man

Chapter 3: The New Family

Summary: Reader is hit by an important holiday.

Your room was getting darker by the hour, but you made no move to turn on a light. It almost seemed fitting to sit in the dark. Matched your mood.

How did you not know? You were always so good at tracking time. Always so careful. The holidays had been your job when it was just you and Josh. He would work like crazy and you would do the shopping and cooking. You preferred it that way. When your parents were alive, your mom always had tried to help you in the kitchen. And while you love her and missed her, it had always felt claustrophobic having someone else in there with you. As if they were always in your way no matter how hard they tried.

So Josh would work and you would cook.

You sighed as you leaned against your bed, your butt slowly becoming numb from sitting on the floor. It was the missions that had done it: made you lost track of the days. And sure, you were slowly starting to see the Avengers as friends. But holidays were different. The holidays were family affairs.

“No need to rush with the equipment, kid.” Tony had told you earlier that day. “Evil may not take a day off, but we do.”

“What are you talking about? We always have a few days off between missions, Stark.”

He stopped and blinked at you. “Are you- are you serious?”

You paused in your actions, taking in Tony’s shocked look. “What?”

Sam had popped up behind you and stuck a balloon to your head. This had been a running gag for the Three Stooges every since you had confessed to helping Nat and Clint that one fateful night.

“It’s Thanksgiving tomorrow, Balloon Bandit!” He said with his signature laugh.

“Wait, it is?” Your jaw dropped.

“Yeah, didn’t you get the email?” Bucky joked as he walked in with Steve.

With that small exchange came the tightness in your chest. You put your equipment bag down and excused yourself, running to your room.

And there you had hidden since that morning, trying not to cry over your first holiday without Josh.

There was a knock on the door followed by the voice of your best friend. “Hey, Kiddo. We’re almost done here. Do you need a ride into town?”

You forced yourself to keep a steady voice. “No thanks, Hawkbutt. I’m staying here.”

There was a long pause. “You’re going to what?”

A sigh. “Stay here. I got rid of my apartment once your circus convinced me to stay.”

“Oh hell no. Nat!” His footsteps quickly ran from your door. You had no idea what thoughts sprouted in Clint’s head, but you didn’t think anything good would come from it.

You weren’t given long to contemplate before there was angry pounding on your door. “Get packed, Kiddo! We’re leaving in five!”

“Nat, I already told Birdbrain I’m staying here.”

“Like hell you are. Be out here in five minutes or I’m breaking the door down! And I won’t need Tin Man’s tools! So get packed! And bring a jacket!”

Of course, you weren’t stupid enough to argue with Nat once she got in one of these moods. So you quickly packed a weekend bag and grabbed your brown leather jacket. You had no idea where you were going, but you guessed it beat sitting in an empty compound for the rest of the week.

In the common room, it was clear everyone else on the team had left except Nat and Clint. “Alright, what’s this all about?”

Nat ignored your question. “Nice jacket. Very Indian Jones vibe.”

“Thanks. It was Josh’s.”

Clint and Nat exchanged a look before Clint spoke up. “Yup, this is the right choice. Let’s go, Kiddo. The Quinjet awaits.”

“Wait, what?”

No further explanation was given as the two dragged you onto the jet. The two remained cryptic during the entire flight, asking what types of food and drinks you liked, ignoring any questions you had on where you were going. And outside the jet, the scenery changed from busy cities to smaller towns, until finally giving away to farmlands.

Clint landed the plane in a field by a farmhouse that seemed cut off from everything else. “Ok, all you hitchhikers. We’re here!”

“And where the hell is here, Barton?” You stood up from your seat and grabbed your bag.

“You’ll see,” he winked as he and Nat exited the jet.

Sighing, you followed after them. Outside the air was crisp with the promise of autumn air, the trees surrounding the field halfway between orange, brown, red leaves, and some completely bare of any leaves. There was a barn off to one side where you could hear a few animals stirring, no doubt being kept inside to keep warm. The farmhouse was a faded yellow with a huge wrap around porch, with a porch swing on one end.

Clint was already at the door and Nat looked back at you from the porch steps. “Better hurry up, ____. Or there won’t be any food left.”

You furrowed your eyes in confusion but followed after. Inside the house was a chaos of kids running up to greet Clint and Nat as they stepped further into the house. You hung back as they got their hugs in before a woman stepped in to hug Nat and kiss Clint. This must be his wife, Laura. Which would make the brood his.

The room became awkwardly quiet as everyone finally noticed your presence. You cleared your throat and waved. “Hi. Sorry to intrude. I had no idea where I was being dragged to.”

Recognition flashed in Laura’s eyes. “Oh, you must be ____! I’m glad you were able to join us after all!”

You looked at Clint and raised an eyebrow. He looked away sheepishly. “They, uh, weren’t given an option. But I couldn’t leave them to spend the week alone.”

Laura just nodded her head and came over, her hand reaching out. “I’m Laura. I usually hug when I greet people, but Clint told me you may not be ready yet.”

You shook her hand as your face grew warm. “Um, yeah. Sorry again to intrude on your family time.”

Laura smiled. “Honey, you are family now. Nat comes to every holiday since she also doesn’t have any family and now you’ve been welcomed in. Clint told me everything and I can’t stand the idea of someone not enjoying any homemade food or family time.”

Your face grew hot and your eyes shot down to your shoes. “Uh, thanks. I wasn’t expecting that.”

Laura gently reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t you come with me into the kitchen? We’ll get you a drink and maybe you can lend a hand with dessert?”

“Uh, yeah. That would be great.” In the kitchen, she handed you a glass of wine. “Thank you. What, uh, what did you need help with?”

Laura blushed. “I’m embarrassed to say, but I forgot to make dessert. Would you possibly make something?”

“Yeah, sure. I love to cook. Is there anything I should know?”

“Only one thing. Our youngest, Nathan, is allergic to pumpkin so as long as it doesn’t have that you’re fine.”

You smiled at Laura. “I think I have an idea.”

As you slowly moved around the Barton’s kitchen taking inventory and grabbing equipment, Clint sat at the table to have a quiet conversation with Nat and Laura.

“Sorry this was so last minute, Laura. We had no idea they didn’t have any plans until today. They still has a hard time opening up about Josh in regards to certain things.”

“It’s quite alright, Clint. With what you’ve told me about them, they needs all the love we can give.”

Nat smiled over her glass of wine. “Whatcha making over there, KIddo?”

You glanced up with a smile. “Sorry, you’ll have to wait for Thanksgiving tomorrow to find out.”

Clint’s jaw dropped. “Oh, that’s just cruel.”

That night, Laura lead you upstairs and into one of the bedrooms. “Sorry, we don’t have more guest rooms, but I promise the bed is very comfortable.”

The room was nice with one bed in the middle and a dresser across the room. A rocker sat next to the closet. It was very quaint.

“Where will Nat sleep?”

“In Cooper’s room. We’re having the boys double up.”

“Oh,” you put your bag down by the bed and felt embarrassed that you had caused one of the kids to move rooms. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to misplace anyone by being here.”

Laura looked at you, her eyes softening. She slowly approached and placed her hands on your shoulders. “It’s nothing the boys can’t handle for one weekend. You’re family now and we want to give you the space you need to feel comfortable here at your own pace. Because this home is yours as well. Anytime you need space from the team, our door is open. No questions asked.”

Your face cracked and Laura instantly pulled you in as you cried. “But why? You don’t even know me.”

“I do. Because Clint does. He told me everything and if you hadn’t been an adult, I would have told him we were adopting you. I will not have a sweet person like you out there on your own. We can’t ever be Josh, but we hope we can fill the hole a little bit.”

You pulled back and Laura gently wiped your tears away. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now get some rest. We have a big day of eating tomorrow.”

You laughed and then sniffed away the last of your tears. “Will do.”

The next day, Laura was busy in the kitchen and wouldn’t let you help, insisting you had done enough by making the dessert for later. So you wandered around the house until you ended up outside where Clint was teaching his daughter how to use a bow and arrow while his boys were chasing each other all over the vast field.

“Sleep well?”

You looked over to find Nat on the porch swing. Nodding your head, you sat down next to her. “Laura was right: that bed was really comfortable.”

Nat handed you a glass. “Eggnog?”

You raised an eyebrow but took the glass. “Isn’t it a little early?”

She laughed quietly. “First of all, there are no rules on a holiday. Second, this is the kid-friendly kind. We safe the bourbon one for after the kids go down.”

“Good call.”

Clint looked over to watch you both laugh. “Hey, is that the glass Laura brought out for me?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” You took a deliberate sip as you looked at him.

He narrowed his eyes as you and Nat busted out laughing.

The morning went quickly and soon you were back inside gathering around the kitchen and the dining table. You made your way over to Clint and handing him a glass of eggnog.

“Peace offering.”

He chuckled. “Accepted.”

“Thanks for dragging me out of the compound. I’d probably be sulking in my room right now, wondering if it was worth it to steal Bucky’s snacks.”

Clint belly laughed at that. “Not gonna lie, that would have been hilarious to hear about from Nat. And see the pictures of you running from him.”

“Traitor.”

“Seriously though, kid. I’m glad you came. You’ve become like a sibling to me and Nat and I would never forgive myself if we had left you alone.”

There was a pause from you. “I’m still not telling you what the dessert is.”

“Damnit!”

The meal went quicker than you expected and soon you were bringing out your contribution.

“A pie?” Clint looked at you incredulously. “You hid a pie from us?”

“Not just any pie.” You plopped a slice onto a plate and handed it to him. “Caramel apple. Our mother’s recipe. She would make this every year for us.”

It was quiet around the table before Clint spoke up. “Thank you for sharing this with us.”

You gave him a soft smile. “It’s like you said: we’re family now.”

[the-northkingdoms]

Chapter 1

Ganlin Hardell had traveled across the desert of Ank’har, and he could feel the air become colder as a breeze blew across him from the North. The journey North had taken him close to a month, but sure enough, the soft sands had given way to hard rock, which gave way to dirt and grass, and Ganlin was close to being in what he thought counted as the territory of Sitar, one of the fourteen North-Kingdoms. It was a hard journey across the deserts of his homeland, but Ganlin was sure that the trek would be worth it. His homeland was growing weak, but he would travel through Sitar and the other thirteen North-Kingdoms, which were all known for their great warriors, and he would learn from them and become strong, and make his country strong again in turn. Ank’har was growing weak, with enemies on all sides, and Ganlin felt he would be able to save them. He would become strong enough to challenge the First Protector, and he could teach the warriors of his people how to be strong, and the deserts would be safe from any would-be invaders.

A smile came to Ganlin’s face as he thought about it. Ever since his childhood he had dreamt of being a hero, his head filled with tales told to him in his youth. Stories like Avilar of the Seventh Dune, who single handedly had fought off the invaders from the Savannas. Or of Taradan Flamehand, who used the power he had over fire itself to create Annikiladar the Glass City. The heroes of legend were Ganlin’s inspiration; he would become powerful like them, and he would help Ank’har to become strong as he defended it against any enemies that may come.

These were the thoughts that filled the mind of Ganlin Hardell as he walked farther North with the sun slowly heading down towards the horizon. The grass getting longer, and the land becoming greener before Ganlin’s eyes. There were strange blades of grass that stood on their own and opened up at the end of them with pieces that were soft to the touch.

Eventually, Ganlin saw buildings in the distance. They were squat and wide, built into the ground like most of the houses in Ank’har. They had a different colour to them, however; where the buildings of Ganlin’s homeland were made of light stone, these houses were crafted out of some dark material. Ganlin thought maybe it was the dirt itself, cleared of grass and stacked on itself. Curious, and eager to find a place to rest, Ganlin approached the village.

By the time Ganlin reached the village, a small crowd had gathered, staring at him. Ganlin tried to not feel put off by the attention, and walked with his back straight and his head held high.

They’re staring because you’re different, embrace it. Nobody here recognizes you. He thought to himself as he strode towards the group. Ganlin consciously tried to keep his hand away from the spirxe attached to his belt. He didn’t want them to think he was looking for violence, after all.

Ganlin stopped at the edge of town, a short distance away from the villagers. One of them, tall with dark, cropped hair and a short beard, walked up to him and stared him in the eye, only a little bit shorter than Ganlin.

“Hello Ank’haran,” they said, with a strange lilt to their voice, however slight. “What brings you to Cardeim?”

“Nothing but the need for a good place to rest my head, Nildari.” Using an Ank’hari term for farmers. “Would any of you be capable of lending me a place to rest? I already have my own food; you would need to give me none.”

The Northerner looked back to the group behind them, seeming to have a silent conversation with the other people, then looked back to Ganlin and gestured to the largest building.

“You can rest in the mainhouse tonight, Ank’haran. You can have your pick of the empty cots. And we’ve been having a bad harvest, so you better have your own food, for your own sake. I suggest you be on your way soon as you can tomorrow as well, this town has had its fill of strangers.” The villager walked back to the group behind them and spoke to them in a low voice. Ganlin took the dismissal for what it was and walked towards the large building near the middle of the village. The building was made out of overlapping plates of a strange material that was dark and grainy with a rough, bumpy texture. It was almost like hardened sand, but it somehow rougher to the touch. Running his hand up the material, Ganlin felt a sharp pain and pulled back, hissing through his teeth. Looking at his hand he saw there was a piece of the building sticking into his hand, stuck under his skin. Who made a building where it would hurt you when you touched it? Was this some sort of defense tactic used by the Northerners? Fortify their villages and cities by using a material that would actively harm any who touched it?

“Give yourself a splinter, eh?” Said a soft voice from behind.

Ganlin turned around to see one of the villagers, around his age, staring at him. Their hair was a few shades lighter than black, a brown that matched the colour of the sand dunes of Ank’har at night.

“A splinter?” He asked.

“A splinter, in your hand. From the wood?” The villager walked up to him and reached for his hand. Ganlin hesitated, but gave it to them; the splinter was in his left hand, it wouldn’t impede his ability to use his weapon if the need presented itself.

“Is that what this is called? ‘Wood’?” He asked as the villager took his hand.

“Wood, form the trees? Do you not have any trees in Ank’har? Oh, where are my manners? My name is Madelna, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Madelna, not too far from the traditional female Ank’haran name Madelina. Madelna looked up at Ganlin as she said that, and he noticed her eyes were the colour of the sky, a colour he’d never seen in anyone’s eyes before.

“A tree?” Ganlin asked. “I’ve never heard such a thing, although the word does sound familiar.” He searched his mind, thinking about the stories the ancestors told to try and come up with a mental image for a tree. “It is like tall grass, yes?”

Madelna laughed. “That’s one way to describe it, I guess. I’d say it’s much more like a tall bush. Do you have bushes in the deserts?”

“Yes, we do. They do not give us ‘splinters’ though, they are harmless, unless the leaves are poisoned, of course.”

“Ah, our bushes here are also mostly harmless.” She stopped looking at his hand, letting go of it. “Don’t worry about the splinter, it should come out in a few days. Why do you have such a strange axe with you, if you don’t mind me asking? Are you a warrior? Can you fight with it?”

“An axe?” Ganlin followed her gaze to the spirxe at his belt. “Is that what you call it? I am a warrior, yes, and I can kill with it, if I need to.”

Madelna looked to him, hope brimming in her eyes as he lowered her voice to a whisper and led him inside the village’s mainhouse.

“Do you think you could help us, Ganlin? Our Clenfather, Noldar, who you spoke with, is too proud to admit it, but we need help, desperately so. Our skla has been harassed by bandits for almost a full mooncycle now, and we are growing weak. We no longer have crops to feed ourselves, as they all go to them. Any messenger we’ve tried to send to another Skla has been intercepted. We are powerless, stranger, and we need your help.”

Ganlin stood in the doorway of the mainhouse, looking at the woman in front of him.

“Do you know how many of them there are?”

Madelna stood silent for a moment, then answered. “I’m not entirely sure, the largest group of them that’s come into town was six, but there may be a few more. No more than ten though, I think.”

Ganlin’s gut twisted. Ten men? Northmen, no less. The warriors of the North-Kingdoms were known for their terrible ferocity in battle. It was said that when enraged, they could easily kill twenty men, and this woman was asking him to fight ten of them? It sounded like suicide. Even though it pained him, he wouldn’t be able to help this village, or skla, as they called it. If he tried, it would almost certainly be the end of him, and then he would be unable to help his country.

“Maiden Madelna, I must-”

“Please. On my honour and on my blood,” She cut him off, a slight tremble to her lip. “Help us.”

Ganlin’s next words died in his throat as she said those words. His spine tingled as oaths stirred in his mind. He reached for his spirxe.

“I do not think you know what you have enacted, maiden, but still, I must follow the codes of my people. As a warrior of Ank’hara, I cannot deny a formal plea, such as the one you just made.” Ganlin unhooked his spirxe, then held out the handle towards Madelna, his left hand gripping the blade.

“If you are serious about wanting my help, then grab it, or you dishonour us both.”

As Madelna grabbed the haft with a shaking hand, Ganlin pulled his hand across the blade, cutting it open. Madelna’s eyes widened in shock. Before she could drop the spirxe, Ganlin took it from her hand, then pressed the flat of the blade first against his chest over his heart, then over his forehead as he spoke the oath etched into his mind since he first began training as a warrior.

“By the Ancient Codes of Ank’har, I am forbidden from denying the plea of one who has never taken up a weapon.” He looked at Madelna for confirmation, and she nodded her head. He continued. “One such person, someone who has never known the taste of battle, asks for my help now, and by the Codes, I must help them. By the honor in my blood, and the blood of my fathers, I will fulfill this oath: I will drive off the bandits accosting this Skal. Usad mor honis.” He wiped the blood off his spirxe with a cloth and reattached it to his belt.

“Usad mor honis? What do those words mean?” Madelna asked.

“They are words from the ancient language of my forefather’s forefather’s. It means ‘until honor dies’. I have sworn to help you, maiden, and I will, but first I must rest. Which of these bunks may I use?”

“Right, yes. Thank you. Follow me.” Madelna led him to close to the back, where there was a collection of strange blankets on the floor. “You can sleep on this one, it’s been free for a while now.”

“Thank you. I shall rest now then, and early in the morning I will set out. You have my word.” Ganlin laid down his pack beside the blankets and began undressing for bed.

“I thank you, kind stranger, for agreeing to help us. I wish you the best of luck.” said Madelna, turning around and leaving through the door.

Ganlin finished undressing to his smallclothes and got under the blankets, which seemed to be made of some sort of strange animal skin that was incredibly soft to the touch. He laid back his head and let himself relax, falling into a comfortable sleep.

Ganlin woke up to silence. Opening his eyes, he could see it was completely dark in the mainhouse, all the torches having gone out in the night. Pulling back his blankets, he felt coldness descend upon his skin. He had only just made it into the border of the North-Kingdoms, and already things were beginning to feel colder than he’d ever felt in Ank’har. He stood up and began getting dressed into his clothes and armor. He slipped his galtor-scale armor over his shirt and tightened it at the waist. Then simple iron greaves and bracers to go over his legs and arms respectively. A simple, open-faced iron helm and finally a small shield over his left arm. Tying his spirxe to his belt, he stepped outside into the cool predawn air. He felt chilled, but as he began making his way farther North the physical activity warmed him up. The dark sky started to slowly lighten as he walked. The sky turned from an inky black to a dark shade of violet.

After about thirty minutes of walking through the plains he approached a line of strange plants that he could only assume were the trees that he had heard of from Madelna. They were tall things, entirely made of the same material that the buildings were constructed out of. Bark, was that what she called it? Growing out from the bark, like a bush, were other pieces of wood that stuck out at a downward angle from the tree, and from each of those sprouted strange green leaves that were very thin and -he discovered as he touched one- sharp. Moving quietly through the trees, which was an odd experience, as his peripheral vision was severely hampered, he heard a snapping noise, not too far off in the distance. Crouching and sneaking his way forward, Ganlin spotted the source of the sound.

There was a tall man who sat on a tree that lay flat across the ground and stared out towards the tree line. The man had a tiny piece of wood in his hands that he was snapping over and over again as he kept watch. He was tall and broad shouldered, with bright hair that went far past his shoulders. The Northman wore pieces of armor that went over his shoulders, forearms, and knees. His iron cap had a piece of metal that went down the middle, Ganlin could see behind him were the sleeping forms of other people. Ganlin counted twelve men. How was he supposed to kill twelve men? Perhaps he could kill one of them and use that to drive the others off. Would the man who was awake accept the offer of a duel? Would any of the others?

“I can tell from the way you dress that you are not from here, foreigner.” The man spoke, freezing Ganlin’s thoughts. “You realize that the armor you wear sticks out like a sore thumb with all that garish colour, it doesn’t match the landscape at all.”

Ganlin looked down at his scale shirt, realizing his folly as he noticed that indeed the bright blues and reds of the Galtor scales stood out bright and noticeable from the dark green hues of the trees and grass. Seeing he was caught, Ganlin stood up and stepped forward into the clearing.

“I am Ganlin Hardell. I must ask that you leave this place. I have sworn upon my honor that I will stop you from bothering the people of the Skal that lies just south of here. I do not know how you people of the North handle such matters, but I’m willing to duel you with the simple terms that if I win, you leave.”

The Northman cocked his head to the side, analyzing Ganlin. Then he let out a laugh. A low, gurgling sound, like he was choking on food.

“HA! You swore upon the strength of your honor, did you boy? Then let us see just how strong your honor is. Tilmar, get up and wake the others, an outlander is here running his mouth about honor.”

The man stood up to his full height, which was a full head above Ganlin, and kicked at a man sleeping on the ground behind him. Tilmar, presumably. Tilmar shot awake and looked around, and then got to waking up the others at the camp. The tall man spoke again.

“I am Ragnov Klasmer. Tell me your name, I would like to know it, if we are to fight.”

Ganlin cleared his throat, and tried to clear away any fear within him with it. It had been a long time since he had fought another warrior. “I am Ganlin Hardell. I come from Ank’har.”

Ganlin could see Ragnov’s eyebrow raise.

“You are from the West, eh? I suppose that makes sense. These two are Yulnag and Ugfin. You shall be fighting all three of us.”

Behind Ragnov two men stood up and began snapping pieces of armor into place, both were almost as tall as Ragnov himself. One had leathery skin and no helmet with black hair done up in a knot above his head. The other had no hair upon his head at all, and was almost twice as wide as either of the other two Northmen. All three men had wicked grins on their faces. Ganlin felt cold in his body that went beyond the chill in the air, but tried to keep his nerves calm as he grabbed his spirxe.

“Very well, if I must fight a tourney, then a tourney I shall fight.”

Ragnov let out a low chuckle.

“A tourney? No, Westerner. All three of us at once.”

All the warriors laughed raucously as Ganlin almost dropped his weapon in shock of that prospect.

“What? All three at once? Where is the honor in that?”

“The honor is in your strength, warrior. You swore upon your honor, your very strength itself, and so, if you show us that you are strong, and filled with honor. Then perhaps we will leave.”

Ganlin tried to stand tall.

“Very well. Are we fighting until submission then, or to the death?”

“We do not have to kill each other, Westman. Until one side is too weak to continue fighting. If that means death, then that means death. But we shall see.”

Ganlin tried to steady his breath as he realized that his body was shaking, the scales of his armor making soft tinkling noises.

“Alright. When shall we begin?”

Ragnov reached to the tree he was sitting on and grabbed a sheath. From it he drew his weapon; a long blade that was almost as long as Ganlin was tall.

“We begin now. Let us see how strong your honor is.”

Ragnov charged forward.

-End of Chapter 1-

Next Chapter->

[nyasha-of-germa-66]

Hi and welcome!!! Can i have some relationship headcanons for Sabo, Mihawk and Katakuri please???

Of course you can! Thank you for the welcome and for the request, Anon!~

General Relationship Headcanons - Sabo, Mihawk, and Katakuri

Sabo

Sabo is quite the romantic partner, and this does not only account for how sweet he is to you. He’s almost always thinking of you to the point where those from the Revolutionary Army tease him about being nearly obsessed with you.

There’s never a dull moment between you two as he’s pretty adventurous and likes to have you along on his journeys, unless he fears that it’s too dangerous. Nevertheless, he loves showing you new parts of the world and bringing you new experiences.

Like his brothers, Sabo is pretty reckless most of the time, and knowing this, you’re normally the one who volunteers to look after him. He’s not as reckless as Luffy is, but he is driven by his emotions like both Luffy and Ace are.

What makes him fall in love with you is your kind and welcoming heart. He always notices when you lend a helping hand to others, and he likes how understanding you are. You’re just an overall wonderful person, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to you.

Sabo enjoys engaging in PDA, and he’ll very likely show you off to every one he meets, though he doesn’t do it intentionally. He particularly enjoys hugging you and holding your hand, but he likes to save his kisses for when you two are alone.

Sabo feels a lot of regret for what happened to Ace and often dwells on how Ace might’ve still been alive had he been there to help Luffy. When you find him while he’s in these states of sorrow, he’s grateful that you’re there to console him and let him talk about his regrets. He knows you’ll say it’s not his fault and that Ace’s death was still a possibility even if he was there, but it makes him feel better to get it off his chest, anyways.

When he’s not on a mission for the Revolutionary Army, he’s taking you out on dates to small town festivals on other islands and showing you a good time. If you want, he’ll let you take him out on dates, too, since he loves to see what you have in store for him.

Sabo makes it a point that he finds something to signify the bond you two share, whether it’s with a meal, a flower, or anything of the like, he doesn’t care as long as you two have something to rejoice in, especially after times of long separations.

 Mihawk

Being in a relationship with Mihawk is just as you’d expect. There’s a lot of unspoken words as he’s not one for flattery, but his actions speak for him. Only when things are truly intimate will he say things he normally wouldn’t.

And though he may not be into the mushy stuff, he does like to spoil you. He’ll cook for you every day, buy you heartfelt gifts, and even prepare romantic evenings for the two of you.

He particularly enjoys taking you out on late night walks around Kuraigana Island where you two are free to talk about anything you want while looking overhead to the stars lighting up the sky. Sometimes, he’ll even bring a picnic blanket and some wine just to change things up a little.

Mihawk is known for always having a straight-face and rarely smiling, but when he’s around you, he can’t help cracking a smile here and there either because of something you say or because of something you do. You’re just one of the few people that can keep him amused at all hours of the day.

It’s very unlikely that Mihawk will initiate any PDA, but then again, he’s rarely out and about or in the presence of others. Normally, you’re the one who initiates anything, but he’s always willing to reciprocate your actions. Hand-holding is perhaps his favorite form of affection.

Since hardly anybody comes to his castle to challenge his swordsmanship, he often finds himself bored, so he looks to you to cure him of his boredom. This can mean chatting, playing board games, or keeping him company while he polishes up on some training every once in a while. He’ll even teach you a thing or two about wielding a sword and tease you about being his next rival if you get too good at handling a sword.

After the World Government decides to dismantle the roles of Shichibukai, he urges you to leave the island for your own safety just as he did with Perona. He’s confident he can protect you, but he’s still wary about the Marines having dirty tricks to use your life against him if you happen to stay.

Mihawk is not particularly close to many people, so the fact that he’s found the perfect someone that cares for him just as much as he cares for them is something short of a miracle.

 Katakuri

Katakuri can be pretty intimidating what with his size and strength as well as his powerful family, but he’s very charming and considerate when he’s with you. He’s a little closed off and less talkative at first, but once the relationship moves along, he’s a lot more expressive and open to you.

Being the Minister of Flour, he tends to be very busy with work regarding the island he manages and work regarding his duties to his mother, so he may not always be available for you. Because of that, he likes to organize strict schedules so that he has enough time for you, his work, and his private snack times.

Speaking of snack times, he doesn’t care how serious and emotionally invested he is in the relationship, he refuses to let you eat with him in fear of ruining the perfect image he tries to maintain. He worries about scaring you away, even if it means making you angry for not letting you eat with him.

After his battle with Luffy, though, he’s much more comfortable with letting you eat with him, and he may not show it, but he’s overjoyed by the fact that you don’t scream or laugh at his strange mouth and absurd eating habits.

In terms of his point-of-view on PDA, he has no problem with it. He’s used to his younger siblings hanging all over him, so he doesn’t mind when you attempt to hug his tall frame, he might even bend down to help you out a little if he’s around his older siblings. They’re less likely to judge him, and his younger siblings are prone to getting jealous.

Katakuri also knows that one of his strides is about seven of yours (given that you’re average height), so instead of walking slower, he’ll pick you up and carry you to places. While you enjoy his generosity, he enjoys helping you out.

Big Mom has a lot of enemies, so one of his priorities is keeping you safe, and he has no trouble with that at all. When Big Mom has one of her hunger pangs, however, he has a bit more trouble keeping you and his siblings safe. If push comes to shove, he’ll have Brulee take you and his younger siblings into the Mirror World until Big Mom’s cravings are satiated. But you two mostly reside on Komugi Island, so he doesn’t have to worry too often.

One thing that he particularly loves about you is how well you get along with his family, even if it’s not all of them. His family means everything to him and that includes you, so he’s thankful that you’re not overwhelmed by them since he’d like for you to officially join the family one day.